


In From the Cold

by CrankWindPencil



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Jack helps out, much angst, suicidal intentions/thoughts, the Doctor sucks at taking care of himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrankWindPencil/pseuds/CrankWindPencil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times the Doctor stops by Torchwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time the Doctor drops in by Torchwood, he just sort of…walks in.

It's something along the lines of three in the afternoon and Ianto is busy trying make himself look busy at the strikingly public reception desk of Torchwood when he hears a knock at the door, followed by two more after a split second's hesitation. He glances up from the papers he's been scribbling occasional notes such as 'pick up milk' and 'look for Regualairan hairdryer in archives' on, and instead fixes his gaze on the door.

_'Knock, knock, knock'_

The knocks on the door are faster this time around, some blend of impatience and desperation intermixed into the noises. Ianto doesn't quite understand. Most people just _open the door_.

Still, he stands up from behind the desk and makes his way across the Tourist Information Centre, over to the door.

_'Knock-'_

"I'm coming!" Ianto barks, hand closing around the brass doorknob as he turned it. He pulls the door open and almost understands why the man on the porch didn't knock. Knocking is what most people do, and this man is most certainly not most people.

The man before him is tall and thin with spiky brown hair that is plastered to his forehead from the downpour of rain outside. He's clad in a blue pinstripe suit and a brown coat of equal length and grandeur of Jack's own World War Two jacket, and, of all things, he's wearing converse.

Also, he's not carrying a pizza.

This throws Ianto for a loop because about ninety nine percent of people that come into this building are bearing some kind of cardboard box with an alluring smell, and the other one percent are just lost. Ianto quickly places this man in the later category.

"I think you've got the wrong address." The Welshman says, all professionalism and smiles. The man glances up at Ianto, expression eerily blank.

"I really don't." He replies. Ianto draws his eyebrows together and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, the other man is shoving past him and into the office. He stalks across the room, behind the desk, whips something out of his pocket, somehow activates the supposedly hidden control under the desk, and strides through the panel that is now both existent and open, leading into Torchwood, all in the same window of time that it takes for Ianto to regain his balance from being pushed aside.

The man is well into the hallway by the time Ianto manages to get to the entrance he disappeared through and soon enough the stranger is at the rolling metal door, waving something blue tipped and metal at said door, and to Ianto's undisguised shock it rolls open, and this man more or less walks into the British government's best kept secret.

Ianto Jones has seen aliens and gods and the most ridiculous, impossible things you could imagine, alongside a lot more that you couldn't and though it all, he's managed to keep an air of calm and composure. For the first time, he can't quite manage that, and as the man walks into the Hub, his mouth falls open and he has no idea what to do.

Approximately half a second later, reality catches up with Ianto and he flat out sprints through the still open rolling door, after the man, accompanied by absolutely bewildered yells of 'What the hell?!' He comes to a stop so abrupt it was almost comical as he scans the Hub quickly and finds the man to be leaning over a keyboard in the currently unoccupied main level, fingers skittering over the keys, evidently unconcerned by Ianto, who is looking on with utter disbelief.

"Jack!' Ianto shouts and still the man doesn't so much as flinch.

A second passes, two, and just as Ianto thinks that the Immortal has gone off somewhere, the door to Jack's office flies open and Jack himself races across the balcony, leaning over the railing.

"Ianto?" He calls, an edge of anxiousness in his voice. He glances to the younger man and Ianto gestures furiously to the man at the computer. Jack's gaze follows, and when he sees the slight man, his expression contorts to surprise, then confusion, worry, anger, and shock once more.

"Doctor?!" He says, voice jumping up in pitch. "What the hell?"

For the first time, the man, now named as the Doctor (and Ianto just _knows_ he's heard that title before), responds, turning his attention away from the monitor to glance at Jack instead.

"Captain." He acknowledges calmly before returning to his task, and Ianto feels his confusion multiply tenfold. In a flash, Jack is down the stairs, racing towards the Doctor. He stops probably five feet away from him and spends several moments being speechless.

"He just...walked past me." Ianto offers in lieu of the silence. Jack doesn't answer and Ianto isn't really sure that the other man has heard him because he's too busy gaping at the Doctor.

"Wha- why- what're you doing?" Jack eventually sputters. The Doctor doesn't reply for a minute, too absorbed by whatever it is that he's doing to answer Jack. After a moment, he takes a step back from the keyboard, running a hand through his hair. He turns to Jack.

"Hello, Jack." He greets. Jack blinks.

"What the hell was that all about?" He asks, confusion laden in his voice as he glanced the Time Lord up and down, taking in his (remarkably disheveled) appearance. The Captain doesn't ask about that though, not at the moment at least.

The Doctor hesitates for a moment before answering.

"Stopped in Cardiff for the TARDIS to refuel and she was picking up some strange readings. Not entirely unexpected, what with the Rift tearing a hole in reality and all, but still, figured it couldn't hurt to check on your systems." Pause. "According to the TARDIS, it was either readings from a generator or the Rift was about to collapse in on itself and probably destroy earth in the process."

Silence.

"Well?" Questions Jack. "Which was it?"

"Hmm? Oh, you don't need to worry, it was just a generator going a bit haywire. The world's not going to end-" The Doctor breaks off, frowning slightly. "Well, it might. But still. Won't be from this."

There's a pause in which Jack is about to say something, but before he gets the chance, the Doctor spins on his heels to face Ianto. Jack doesn't fail to miss the way that the Doctor very nearly falls over, just barely catching himself, nor does he miss just how sickly the grin that he flashes Ianto is.

"Sorry 'bout earlier, Ianto." He apologizes. "Thought I might have to prevent a catastrophe and I guess I forgot my manners in the process."

"It's alright, sir." Ianto replies, his words sounding more like a question than he had intended.

"...Right then!" The Doctor starts, startling Jack with the sudden energy he was projecting. "I should probably be off, don't want to be bothering you-"

His words are cut off as Jack grabs the Time Lord's wrist and, Christ, he can feel his friend's shaking frame in his own steady hand.

"You're not bothering us, Doc." Jack says, voice deceptively calm. He wants the Doctor to feel like he has a choice in whether he stays or not, even though he doesn't. Because Jack just knows that the second the Time Lord feels an ounce of pressure to stay, he'll bolt out of Torchwood in record time and won't bother to show up for another regeneration.

The Doctor waves his free hand dismissively.

"Sure I am. You've got stuff to do, there's no reason for me to slow you down with all of that."

Jack gives a derisive snort and motions around the Hub.

"No one else is here, Doc. I let the rest of the team go home hours ago. It's a slow day."

The Doctor blinks, and for a second Jack could swear there's anger present on his features before it passes and a grin takes its place, bright and brittle and paper thin.

"If you're sure-" He begins.

"Of course I'm sure." Jack confirms. "You're always welcome at Torchwood, Doctor."

The Doctor looks as though he's about to say something, but before he can, Ianto's voice cuts through.

"I know I've seen you before." The Welshman says, voice steady and slightly accusatory. "Who are you, exactly?"

"I- I'm just a traveler. That's all."

"Jack doesn't ever stop talking about you, you know." Ianto mentions slowly, and there's just a twinge of jealousy there. The Doctor glances to Jack, genuine surprise etched on his features.

"Oh, well, we're a bit similar, I suppose. Both wanderers in a sense of the word, neither of us can quite fathom Torchwood One's utter incompetence...we're two of a kind. I imagine it would be a bit hard to shut up about me." The Time Lord joked, recovering from his earlier surprise. At the latter part of the Doctor's sentence, specifically, at the words 'Torchwood One', Ianto's spine stiffened and he glanced the Doctor over again, really taking in every detail this time around, and something very much like hate flashes in his eyes.

Jack sees this immediately. He's been watching for it, really. Because sometimes Ianto is just too damn clever for his won good, and Jack knew, just knew, that the younger man would catch on quickly, figure out exactly what Jack didn't want him to in no time flat.

So he steps in between the broad shouldered Welshman and the unhealthily thin Time Lord and shoots Ianto a pointed glance.

"A word, Ianto." The Immortal says, voice sharp. Ianto glares at him, jaw clenched and the Doctor takes several steps back.

"If you want to just hang about in my office for a minute, Doctor." Jack says without looking at the other man in question. The Time Lord seems to hear the hidden command and starts towards the stairs leading up to the balcony without argument for once. Jack watches as he reaches the top , opens the door to his own office, and steps in, letting the door close behind him. The Captain opens his mouth to speak, but Ianto beats him to it, pouring out years of hate and resentment and betrayal.

"He was at Canary Wharf, Jack! He was there, he made it happen, and you just let him stay here even though you know that?! The bastard took you away from us for a whole year, and you come back, and you won't say anything about anything, and you still trust him?!" Ianto nearly shouts and Jack winces, in part because the door to his office can't possibly be quieting Ianto's words any, but also because they hurt.

"It- it's not like that, Ianto." Jack says, voice remarkably steady.

"Then what's it like?!" Ianto snarls.

"That- Canary Wharf, and the Year, that...it wasn't his fault." The Immortal argued, mostly convinced of what he was saying. As flawed as the Doctor may be; a mad man with two broken hearts and a twisted soul, if there's one thing that Jack believes in, it's him. It has to be him, actually, because while the rest of Jack's world may die and waste away, the Doctor is the one constant in his life and he has to keep holding onto that.

Ianto gives a disbelieving snort at Jack's words.

"Of course those weren't his fault." He mutter, and Jack just wants to grab him and shake him by his shoulders until he sees. The Captain opens his mouth to say something, to try to convince Ianto of exactly why the Doctor deserves their respect, their help, their love, even, and then closes it again, knowing his words will fall on deaf ears.

"You- you have to know him." Is all he says, turning away from Ianto and starting for the stairs leading to his office. Jack knows that his words are true, just as he knows that Ianto won't believe them, because, to know the Doctor, to even come close to the illusion that you might understand him, you have to know the love and friendship and mercy that is the Time Lord, as well as the hate and fury and guilt that are just as much a part of him.

The Captain reaches the top of the stairs, twists the doorknob, and pushes the door open, stepping into the office. His gaze falls to the cot in the back of the room where the Doctor is sitting, posture slumped, face buried in hands, every inch of his screaming exhausted.

"Doctor," Jack addresses, and the Time Lord snaps up to where his back is straight, facing Jack and flashing a grin just on this side of sane.

"Captain," He replies, voice too bright, too enthusiastic, for it to be anything but a lie. "You know, just glancing around down there, some of the stuff you've got lying around down there could rip apart the Time Vortex if you twitch it the wrong way-"

"Stop." Says Jack, cutting off the Time Lord's hundred mile an hour babble while cataloging the disturbing (and probably true) off hand remarks the man had just made about the potential disasters waiting to happen stored down stairs. "Just...stop.

Something surprisingly like hurt flashes across the Doctor's features, soon enough replaced by a perfectly blank expression as he does what Jack says, clamping his mouth shut and studying the Immortal intently.

"I'm sorry, but you just...need to slow down."

_'In speech, in thought, in life, before you turn an unexpected corner and spin out of control, into a fiery wreak-'_

"Right." The Doctor replies, slower this time around, cutting of Jack's train of thought. "Sorry 'bout that. You really should take care of some of those artifacts, though."

Jack nods, waving a dismissive hand as he does so.

"Yeah, I will, but..." He glances up to the Doctor and trails off, the words he was about to speak, lost. Because when he looks at the Time Lord, really looks at him, there's something about him, a desperation in his eyes that he can't quite mask and Jack can't help but think that it doesn't quite line up with his claim for why he came to Torchwood in the first place

"...Are you sure that those readings are the only reason that you stopped by here, Doc?"

The Doctor flinches slightly at this, but gives no other reaction.

"Of course, Jack." He replies, perfectly calm. "Why else would I stop by?" He asks, and Jack has to admit that he does a pretty good imitation of genuine curiosity because those words had hurt, and the Immortal know that they were supposed to. Their very purpose had been to sting and drive Jack away from anything even remotely close to the truth. Jack knows this, knows the game that the Time Lord is playing at, because he himself has played it one too many times, and he knows how to turn it against the other man in what he hopes to be a beneficial way.

"I dunno, maybe to see the rest of the team, or the Hub, or me." Jack says as casually as he can manage. The Doctor merely shrugs in answer. Jack hesitates some, not quite sure how to phrase his next question. He decides, taking in how unnaturally pale the Doctor is and the unhealthy thinness that afflicts his body, that perhaps, in this incidence, being direct is his best option.

"Are you sure that you didn't stop by to just...rest for a while?"

The Doctor stiffens. Blinks. Looks to Jack. Opens his mouth to respond. Closes it again.

"Are you alright?" Jack asks, and even he can hear how worried he sounds. The Doctor is quiet a moment.

"I'm always alright..." He mutters.

"Doctor-" Jack starts, frustration leaking into his voice.

"No, really." The Doctor interrupts, louder and more confident this time around. "I'm fine."

"As fine as you ever are." Jack corrects.

"Exactly." The Doctor confirms.

"Which isn't really fine at all."

"Captain. Look at me. I'm perfectly alright."

Jack fights the urge to laugh, to point out the bags underneath his friend's eyes, the skinniness that his suit does little to hide.

This is what he says instead.

"It's just...I never know where, or when, you are, Doc. I never know what you've gotten yourself into and I-" He pauses. "I don't want the next time I see you to be in a UNIT morgue." He finishes, done juggling words.

"It won't be." The Doctor quickly counters.

"And how can I be sure of that?!"

The Doctor gives a small sigh, watching the Ex-Time Agent with care.

"Can you just trust me on this?" He asks.

Jack wants to say that, no, he can't really trust the Doctor on this. That he's seen the Time Lord attempt to fulfill his own death wish one or two or seven too many times for him to place absolute faith in the other man on this matter.

The Doctor apparently notices Jack's quiet and takes it for the distrust that it is.

"Jack...I- I'm not going to lie and say that there;s no chance of me getting killed. You know how I live. But...I'm not going to try to get myself killed." He flashes a weak grin. "C'mon, I'm too important for that." He jokes, and though the comment was meant to lighten the mood, Jack wants to grab the Doctor by his shoulders and tell him that it's true, that he is too damn important to get himself killed, that he's too important to even joke about it.

"Please, Jack. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this."

Jack knows that the Doctor doesn't mean that, knows that the closer he gets to the truth, the more carefully calculated the lies that the Doctor deploys are. And while that scares him, really and truly shakes him to the core, there's something about the Doctor in this moment, and he finds the older man's words strangely reassuring.

He nods.

'Alright, Doc."

The Time Lord sighs slightly, leaning against the wall behind him.

"...I really should leave..." He mutters, mostly to himself.

"You really shouldn't." Jack counters swiftly. The Doctor glances to Jack, looks as if he's about to argue, but the Immortal speaks before he can.

"Please. Just for a while. A couple of hours. Ianto will be ordering pizza in a while. We can catch up."

The Doctor is silent for a moment, and Jack can glimpse past and see the argument going on behind his carefully crafted visage, _stayleaverestsunfriendenemysafetydangerwantneedcalmfear-_

And suddenly it's over. The Doctor looks at Jack, really looks at him, and gives a nearly unpercievable nod.

"Alright." He agrees, voice quiet.

Jack grins.

"I'll let Ianto know.

**~oOo~**

"You're sure you don't want anything else?" Asked Ianto. The Doctor smiled and shook his head.

"I'm fine, Ianto." He replies easily.

Jack is quiet, watching the pair's interaction with a fixed fascination. He'd been hesitant at first, hesitant to even let them within speaking distance of each other, fearing that Ianto would lash out with hate and anger and blame, afraid that the Doctor would crack under the words and shirk away, disappearing the moment Jack dared to turn his back.

And while they hadn't been exactly warm to each other at first, slowly, so very slowly, the icy glares and frosty tones had thawed into something a bit less like hate and a bit more like...if not camaraderie, then perhaps respect.

Which had, of course, led to Ianto offering the Doctor pizza and confusing Jack beyond all possible belief. The Captain has seen Daleks and Weevils and alien plots so complex you would need seven dimensions to fully see them for what they were, but never has he thought that he would see this; Ianto and the Doctor, sitting across from each other with only a box of pizza in between them, making small talk.

They're being friendly.

Honestly, Jack's not sure he'll ever be properly surprised again.

Without warning, the Doctor stands up from the sofa he'd previously been relaxing on, and there's something about his posture, a defensive aggression he can't quite hide, and Jack knows what's going to happen next.

"T's nearly ten o'clock, Jack-" It's only eight thirty, but Jack lets it slide. "I'd best be going."

Jack nods slightly, notices the relief that floods across the Doctor's features. He's not offended, exactly, but he really does wish that his friend would stick around just a bit longer.

The Doctor starts towards the Hub's exit, long brown coat flowing behind him. Ianto seems to be vaguely confused at the Doctor's sudden departure, but doesn't say anything.

"Doc!" Jack calls. The Doctor stops and turns around. "Not so fast!" Jack says, smiling slightly.

"Right." The Doctor replies. "Of course. I'll see you around, Ianto." He pauses, glances to Jack. "Captain." He says, giving a two fingered salute. Jack snaps to attention and returns it.

"Doctor."

The Doctor gives a nod of acknowledgment and turns to leave again.

"And, Doc!"

The Time Lord pauses.

"Any time you need to stop by, for any reason...we'll be here. You're always welcome at Torchwood."

The Doctor doesn't answer, but there's a lighter note in his step as he walks, almost a bounce, and Jack thinks that his message got though. The Doctor stops at the rolling door nad sonics it, watching as the mass of metal and gears opens.

"I'll see you later then, Jack. Ianto."

"Y-yes, sir." Ianto stammers out.

"You'd better!" Jack called, a smile pulling at his lips.

Without a word, the Doctor's coat trail disappears from view.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times the Doctor visits Torchwood.

The second time the Doctor comes to Torchwood, Jack more or less drags him in.

They're out- he and Ianto and Gwen and Toshiko and Owen, not even really doing anything, just walking about Cardiff, on their way to a frankly fantastic Chinese place to pick up some lunch, taking advantage of a slow day, when Jack spots him.

He stops. Just stops, dead in his tracks, and ignores the muttered swear from Owen when the medical doctor almost runs into him.

"The hell, Jack?" Owen asks, not bothering to disguise his irritation. Jack doesn't answer. At least, not at first, because it's not Owen's voice that's capturing most of his attention. Rather, it's a man that's stolen his focus.

It's a man who's sitting on a bench, back facing towards Jack. A man with spiky brown hair and a brown trench coat that collects perfectly at his feet, just millimeters above the sidewalk pavement. A man that looks suspiciously like-

"Doctor?!" Jack nearly yelps. The man on the bench flinches and turns to face where Jack stands, and sure enough, it's the Doctor. Jack starts towards the bench and after half a second's hesitation, so does Ianto. By the time the pair reach him, the Time Lord has stood up and shoved both hands into his coat's pockets.

"What're you doing in Cardiff?" Jack questioned, placing his own hands in his coat.

"Oh, you know, I'm just out and about..." The Doctor said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Sitting on our city's lovely benches?" Jack grins. He hasn't seen the Doctor in months and he's doing his best to restrain himself, to avoid hugging him and asking how he's doing, to avoid showing too much concern for the other man's well being.

Not that there actually seems to be too much to be concerned about for once. The Doctor's eyes are slightly unfocused at times, and he's a bit thinner than Jack would like, but other than that he appears to be mostly fine.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, Jack." The Doctor answers, wearing a small smile. "Ianto!" He greets, turning to the Welshman.

'Hello, sir."

The Doctor winces slightly.

"Not sir, never sir. Just Doctor is fine." He says, the discomfort in his voice nearly tangible. Ianto nods.

"Right, s- Doctor."

Jack motions to the rest of his team, who are standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking entirely baffled.

"We're heading to a Chinese place to pick up lunch, if you want to join us." He offers. The Doctor's gaze flashes to the group that Jack had mentioned before returning to Jack and Ianto. After a slightly hesitation he starts towards the group, a light 'Why not?', following him.

Jack and Ianto glance at each other, shrug, and start after the Time Lord.

'Who's this then, Jack?" It's Gwen who's speaking, nodding towards the Doctor.

Jack has had years to plan this conversation out, has had hours dedicated to thinking about how he would introduce this enigma of a man to his team on the chance he ever dropped by when they were around. At Gwen's inquiry, he promptly forgets all this.

"He's the Doctor." Is what the Captain says, because honestly, there's no other way to describe him. Gwen arches an eyebrow, clearly needing a bit more of an explanation than Jack's just given. So he continues. "Bit of a traveler. We're friends."

Jack very pointedly ignore the skeptical snort this earns from Owen.

The Doctor gives a small wave and greets the team as Ianto glares daggers at Owen.

The Time Lord flashes a quick smile to the group and starts off by Ianto's side, chattering away with the Welshman.

Jack beckons the rest of his team to follow as he catches up with Ianto and the Doctor, a smile gracing his features as his friend rambles on about some tangent that Jack can't possibly hope to find the derivative of.

Jack doesn't care.

The Doctor is doing well.

**~oOo~**

Jack frowns slightly, staring at the Doctor over his plate of orange chicken and rice. He's beginning to reassess earlier conclusion of the Doctor's well being. He's beginning to reassess a lot of things, actually, like hoe he thought this would just be a casual visit.

It's only been an hour perhaps, but already the Time Lord is sending up various red flags. He's gesturing wildly over his glass of iced tea (the only thing he'd ordered,claiming that he wouldn't want to help Torchwood to achieve the financial ruin of England, one plate of chicken at a time), and while his stories weren't all that unusual, Jack suspected that the energy he was projecting was meant to distract from his actual physical condition.

The physical condition that, the longer Jack studied it, the more pronounced his frown became. While the last time the Doctor had stopped in at Torchwood, he hadn't exactly been a picture of perfect health, Jack can say with confidence that his hands had definitely not been shaking then, either.

They were now. Any time that they stopped moving, there was a prominent tremble in them, and Jack was focusing on that a hell of a lot more than he was the half true words flowing from his friend's mouth.

The Doctor broke off from one of his stories -something about sentient pillows- and glanced to Jack, grinning.

"Come on, then, Jack. Martha's got to have told you about this." He chastises. Jack gives a slight nod and the grin slides off the Doctor's face, like oil off glass.

"What's up?" He asks. leaning across the table.

Beat.

"Nothing." Jack dismisses easily after just a moment. "Just a bit distracted is all."

The Doctor doesn't look like he really believes Jack, concern scrawled across his features and Jack nearly laughs at the irony of the Time Lord being concerned over him when it should be the other way around. Is the other way around most of the time.

The Ex Time Agent flashes his own trademark flirty grin and prays that the Doctor's own experience with this tactic won't clue him into Jack's own use of it.

"Although I do seem to remember Martha mentioning something about it once or twice. Was on Calypsus, wasn't it?" Jack asks, feigning interest. Rather well, it seems, as the Doctor doesn't appear to pick up on it. Instead he smiles and nods.

"Yeah. Well, technically Calypsus IV, bit still"

"Right."

Actually, Jack can't decide if he's an exceptional actor or it the Doctor's just not picking up on what should be obvious giveaways. He's looking antsy, constantly glancing around like an animal stuck in a cage, and it occurs to Jack that he might not be paying attention to much other than potential escape routes.

And quite suddenly, Jack has had enough of being in the dark with the Doctor. He stands abruptly, glancing around the table.

"I've had my fill." He says, glancing to the Doctor. "Really should be headed back to the Hub, make sure that nothing's come up."

The Doctor shoots out of his own chair, standing at the end of the table next to Jack, confirming the Captain's suspicions for his plan of flight.

Strengthening his resolve to find out exactly why the Doctor was so eager to leave.

At Jack's words, Gwen rolls her eyes slightly and Owen gives a snort. Ianto nods to Jack and the Immortal starts towards the restaurant's exit, side by side with the Doctor. The pair step outside and the Doctor turns to face Jack.

"Right then. Thanks for the tea and all, Jack. But if you're headed for the Hub then I really should be getting back to the TARDIS."

Last time, Jack had wanted to grab the Doctor and shake him until he would listen to reason. Last time, though, the Doctor had also been, as he'd pointed out, more or less fine. And seeing as how Jack, even if he had no real reason to believe the Doctor's word on the matter, also had no evidence that the other man wasn't fine, there really had been nothing he could have said or done to keep the Doctor around.

This time, Jack has no such obstacle.

He grabs the Doctor by his shoulders (too thin, too bony, shaking too much) and notes the momentary surprise on his features. Jack ignore it, because if he really wants to help the Doctor right now, he can't actually think about him too much.

"Don't go."

This isn't exactly what Jack had been planning to say, and it comes out as more of a plead as opposed to something which he had hoped would at least vaguely resemble authority.

The Doctor gives infuriatingly little reaction and Jack can't help but think that he's been expecting this.

Of course he had. Half the time the Doctor seemed to know exactly what somebody was going to say or do half an hour before they even thought of doing it. He'd probably been trying to think his way out of this conversation since he'd first seen Jack.

Jack realizes this and almost punches something, but the only thing within range is the Doctor and that's sure as hell not about to happen.

"Please. Stay."

He's also been planning to be quite a lot more composed about this whole thing, but evidently that's not about to happen. So when the Doctor still doesn't do anything; doesn't say anything, doesn't move, doesn't so much as twitch, Jack shakes him, properly shakes him, and looks him dead in the eye.

"You're not alright,I can tell, Doc. Don't you dare tell me that you are, 'cause I know it's not true. You're _shaking_ , Doc, and you're scaring me."

"Please, Jack, I'm fine-"

"You're not fine!" Jack snaps. He's really been hoping that the Time Lord would be at least somewhat sensible, wouldn't push Jack away. "You're shaking and you're pale and you're flinching at every little fucking noise, and I don't care what you say, but you're a damn sight skinnier than the last time I saw you!"

The Doctor tenses at Jack's words and he knows he's hit a nerve.

"I- I couldn't- Astrid, I couldn't help her, wasn't-" His words are broken and raw, and all of a sudden Jack's arms are wrapped around him and the Doctor practically melts into the warmth of the Captain's coat, taking shuttering breaths even as his eyes remain stubbornly dry. Several passerby on the street are staring, confused, and Jack glares at them, silently daring them to say something. They avert their gaze to the ground and continue on their ways down the sidewalk. Jack holds the Doctor tighter and leans down to the head that's buried in his shoulder.

"Come back with us." He mutters. Hopes.

The Doctor lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Jack, refusing to look at him.

"Yeah." He agrees. "Think I will" Beat. "Rassilon knows what would happen if Torchwood was allowed to go unchecked for too long."

Jack smirks slightly at this and starts down the sidewalk, the Doctor walking with him. The Time Lord is silent for a time and after a while, Jack places an arm around the other man's shoulders. A flash of happiness flickers across the Doctor's features and Jack smiles slightly at this.

He remembers the Doctor's entire facade cracking in his hold, just a short while ago, and the smile vanishes.

**~oOo~**

"Doc!"

The Doctor spins around to face Jack and just barely catches the small metal object being hurled towards him before it falls to the ground. He scowls at Jack

"You could've given me a bit of warning, you know." He mutters, though there's no real venom in his voice. Jack shrugs.

"Noted. Have you got any idea what that is, though?" He questions. motioning to the Doctor's hands.

The Doctor leans back against the wall as he continues to sit on Jack's cot int the Immortal's office, turning the metal cube over in his hands.

"Just a guess, but it looks like a speaker from Ritex." He said, still examining the cube.

"A speaker. Like, for music?"

The Doctor glanced up to Jack.

"Yeah." He confirmed.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Jack shrugged.

"How about that," He said, watching the Time Lord's hands. They're still shaking, though not as much as before. Jack suspects that this is only because the Doctor is actively focusing on keeping them somewhat steady. He looks the Doctor over again, taking in the bags under the Time Lord's eyes, his slumped posture.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked, voice sharp as it cuts though the silence. The Doctor flinches slightly, snapping his attention back up to Jack.

"...Dunno." He replies after a moment, averting his gaze from the Captain.

" _Doctor."_ Jack presses, scrutinizing the other man.

Pause.

"...Maybe a month?" The Doctor eventually says, sighing as he puts the cube on the cot and runs his hands through his hair. Jack lets out a particularly volatile swear and the Doctor's gaze flickers to him.

"Not human." He reminds Jack.

Jack scowls slightly.

"Maybe not, but that's like a human going without sleep for a week." He says, and the Doctor doesn't bother to argue with him. Instead, he gives a mild mannered,

"I'm well aware of that, Captain."

"Then why are you fucking doing it?" Jack snarls. The Doctor's jaw clenches and he drops his head to study the floor which has quite suddenly captured his undivided attention.

"Language, Jack." He mutters and Jack feels every ounce of anger drain from him, just like that. He sighs slightly and looks at the Time Lord. Just looks.

"Sorry." He apologizes. The Doctor gives a small shrug.

"Don't be."

Silence ensues.

"But really though," Jack starts. "Why haven't you been sleeping?" His voice is softer this time around, gentler, but that doesn't seem to stop the other man from tensing and Jack knows that he'll be getting half truths, meant to distract and reassure, before the Doctor even opens his mouth.

"Been forgetting." He offers. "Lot going on lately, sleeping hasn't been something I've really been making a point to do."

Jack snorts.

"You're exhausted. Of course you know that you need sleep, you can feel it, and not even you are that ignorant to your body, Doc." Pause. "Try again."

"Maybe I don't want to be sleeping, Captain!" The Doctor exclaims, voice closer to a growl than not. Jack is slightly taken aback by the Doctor's outburst, even if he's not exactly surprised by it. He's been halfway expecting the Time Lord's hot, flashy anger to arise when smiles and lies failed him. "Maybe I don't want to see death and blood and fire every time I close my eyes!"

He's shaking again, his entire body trembling, and his voice is cracking more with every word. Without warning, his posture, rigid and tall, slumps and he leans against the wall, eyes screwing shut.

For a moment, both Jack and the Doctor are quiet. The energy seems to have drained out of the Doctor as he stays sunken against the wall, and Jack...Jack doesn't know what to say. He'd been thinking that the Doctor's refusal to sleep had been born out of his own blatant disregard for his health; never had he imagined that there would be something like this fueling it instead.

"God, I'm sorry, Doc..." The Captain says. Sorry that the best man Jack has ever known was plagued by a past he hadn't chosen, sorry that Jack himself didn't know what to do or say, didn't know how to help a man this broken.

"Of course you're sorry." The Doctor says, and if Jack isn't mistaken, he giggles. Short and choked, but still. He twitches slightly and his eyes snap open. "No, I'm sorry, Jack-"

"Doctor."

The Time Lord falls silent and Jack stares at him. He'd known that the Doctor wasn't alright, but that right there, it had bordered on manic. Concern welled anew in Jack's chest, alongside something very like fear for the man sitting across from himself. The Immortal opens his mouth to say something, but the Doctor stands up with the metal cube in his hand and Jack knows that it really doesn't matter what he says right now, because at this point, the Doctor is very much through discussing anything remotely important or personal.

"This really should be filed into your archives." He notes mildly, refusing to meet Jack's gaze. Jack gives a resigned sigh and nods.

"Probably, yeah." He agrees.

The Doctor blinks and opens the door to Jack's office, starting down the balcony stairs without another word. He damn near falls down half the flight and Jack swears under his breath as he follows the Time Lord. Jack clenches his jaw but doesn't comment.

For once in his life, he really doesn't know what to say.

**~oOo~**

When the Doctor trips for the seventh time and nearly hits his head on an archive shelf, just barely catching himself in time, Jack stops giving a damn about having the right things to say, and clasps both his hands on the Doctor's shoulder, studying him.

"You. Sleep. _Now."_ The last word is spoken as a growled command, because Jack has also stopped giving a damn about the Doctor's opinion on this matter, seeing as how that opinion has reduced the usually decently healthy Time Lord to the exhausted mess of a man before him. When the Doctor doesn't bother to argue, Jack swallows the worry that forms a lump in his throat and instead props the Doctor's right arm over his own shoulders for support.

He doesn't quite trust the Time Lord with such tasks as walking at the moment.

Jack more or less leads him up the two flights of stairs it takes to reach his office. He opens the door, walks the Doctor to his bed, and watches as he collapses onto it, not even bothering to shed his coat as he lays down, curling into himself on his side. Jack wordlessly draws the cot's blankets over the Time Lord. He wants tosay something, to speak words of apology and assurance and love, but the words don't present themselves and he can't seem to find them.

"Sleep well, Doc." Is what he says instead. When the Doctor gives no reply, Jack glances down to him. His eyes are closed, breathing even, expression relaxed.

Asleep.

**~oOo~**

Jack has been planning on sorting out the archives while he was more or less alone in the Hub and had the time.

What he ends up doing is a menial amount of paperwork and a lot of watching the Doctor sleep. He tells himself that it's not as strange as it sounds, because he's making sure that the Doctor is alright. He knows that he's just lying to himself.

Truth be told, it's just _weird_ to see the Doctor sleeping, and strangely fascinating. Never has he seen the Time Lord keep so eerily still. He doesn't keep exactly still, of course. There are times when he twitches in his sleep and squirms and lets out noises distressingly close to whimpers. Jack doesn't quite know what to do during these times, so he walks to the Doctor and sits next to him, with a hand on the other man's shoulder and reassuring words in his ear.

That seems to help.

The Doctor has been asleep for seven hours and Jack is beginning to worry. The rest had returned a few hours earlier and Jack had shooed them away, telling them to take the rest of the day off. Mostly, he just wanted to be alone with the Doctor when he woke up, no interruptions, but he's starting to wish that he'd kept Owen around. Seven hours is an obscenely long time for a Time Lord to sleep, from what Jack understands. He's beginning to think that the Doctor was just saying that he hadn't slept in a month. He avoids thinking about how long it's really been.

Finally, _finally,_ the Time Lord's eyes flutter open and he blinks in confusion, disoriented by his surroundings for a fraction of a second. Recognition flashes across his features and he sits up, still somewhat tangled in the mess of blankets Jack had amassed atop of him in his sleep.

"...Blimey." He says, running a hand through his already mussed up hair, causing it to stick up even more. He glances around the office again, his gaze settling on Jack, seeming to have just noticed the other man who was still behind his desk.

"Yeah." Jack agrees, voice soft.

"...How long has it been?" The Doctor asks.

"About seven hours." The Captain replies.

Pause. Then,

"Shit." The Doctor mutters under his breath.

"That's what I've been thinking, too, Doc." Jack says, standing up from behind his desk and walking over to the cot. "Mind telling me how long it's really been since you've slept?"

The Doctor blinks.

"About thirty seconds, I should think, Ja-"

_"Stop."_ Jack commands.

The Doctor stops.

"Don't know." He says, voice flat. "Lost track a while ago."

Jack lets out a very controlled breath and gives a humorless chuckle.

"Don't do that again." He says, and there's really not even an inch of room in his voice for objection. " _Really_ don't do that again."

There may not have been any room for argument, but that doesn't seem to stop the Doctor from trying. He opens his mouth, but before he can utter a syllable, Jack cuts him off.

"You do this to yourself again and you won't see the TARDIS key for the rest of this century."

The Doctor gapes at Jack in open mouthed shock.

"You wouldn't-"

"I would."

Silence.

"Are we understood, Doc?" Jack asks. He really doesn't like doing this, doesn't like forcing his friend into a corner with no way out, but, God damnit, he's _scared_ and he needs to have some sort of way to make sure that the Time Lord will at least try to take care of himself.

"We're understood." The Doctor responds.

"Good."

They stare at each other for a moment, neither really sure what to say until Jack finally breaks the silence.

"There's some left over pizza from last night downstairs, if you're hungry." He mentions as he starts out his office. The Doctor hesitates for just a second before shooting off of the cot and joining Jack down the stairs.

"Hungry?" Jack smirks.

"Starving."

The word is harmless, but Jack can't help but twitch as it come's from the thinner-than-he-would-like-Doctor.

They reach the bottom of the stairs and the Doctor walks with an almost irritating efficiency to the table with several cardboard boxes adorning it. He flips one open and has wolfed down two slices in the time it takes for Jack to work through half of one. The Captain is almost concerned with how quickly the Time Lord is eating, but mostly he's just glad that the Doctor is doing so without being pressured. He doesn't ask how long it's been.

The Doctor eats a third piece and Jack himself has a couple more and soon enough they're back down in the archives, the Time Lord rambling on at a hundred miles an hour about _something_ , Jack isn't really sure _what_ , and sometimes the language filling the air doesn't sound like english at all, but he lets it slide as he files various bits of alien technology, occasionally asking the Doctor what something is, nodding and giving a slight grunt of agreement to the Doctor's babble every once in a while. They spend maybe three hours down there before Jack starts noticing the Doctor's decline in energy, his voice slowing and movements not quite as sudden. It's perhaps another hour before the Time Lord's voice ceases entirely and Jack glances over his shoulder to find the Doctor slumped against a shelf, head sunken against his chest, eyes slid shut. The Captain gives a small smile and walks next to the Doctor, then leans down and picks him up.

The Doctor may be thin, but he's also tall and bony and awkward, and Jack can only support his unevenly distributed weight for so long. So he hurries up the two flights of stairs needed to reach his office and drops the Doctor onto his bed, maybe just a bit more roughly than he had intended. Glancing up at the clock -it's well past midnight- Jack suddenly becomes aware of his own fatigue. He looks to the Doctor, figures that the other man really won't mind, and sheds his heavy wool coat before clambering into the cot as well, taking the role of the big spoon as he lay next to the Doctor, draping his own arm over the smaller man's chest.

Jack has imagined the scene a thousand times, though never exactly like this. There's never three layers of clothes between them in his fantasies, and somehow, though it lacks most of what the Immortal longs for, there's an intimacy that nothing in his imagination can quite conjure. Jack decides that he's perfectly alright with this as his eyelids flutters shut and his breathing slows, the consistently slightly cooler than himself Time Lord pressed up against his front, still and content.

Tonight, this is how the universe's watchmen sleep.

**~oOo~**

The Doctor stays for another seventeen hours.

Jack awakes the next morning to a very still Doctor. Too still to possibly be asleep, so-

"How long have you been awake for, then?"

Shrug.

"A while."

It's not really an answer, but Jack lets it pass as the Time Lord stands up and stretches, pacing around the office. Jack, too, stands up, and together they wander down to the main level of the Hub, only somewhat surprised that the rest of the team is already there.

Jack greets the team, ignores Owen's lewd remarks, and retrieves some coffee from Ianto, assuring the younger man that absolutely nothing had happened the night before with the Doctor, that he wouldn't lie, not about this, not to him. For his part, Ianto seems to belive Jack's words and even offers to make the Doctor some tea. Jack smiles and thanks Ianto, saying that the Doctor takes his tea with no milk and four sugars. Ianto hesitates slightly at this, but recollects himself quickly and walks off, presumably to put the kettle on.

Meanwhile, the Doctor has set about the Hub with the apparent intention to familiarize himself with everybody. When Jack turns around, he's talking to Toshiko. The Doctor, at least, is speaking sith grand gestures to Tosh, who's talking more enthusiastically then Jack has seen in a very long while. The Captain heads over to the pair to find out what they're talking about.

"-'Cause, you see, the self renewing neutron loop would provide the energy to keep the whole thing stable. Welll, I say stable- Jack!" The Doctor spun around to face the Immortal, a smile lighting up his features. "Toshiko and I here were just discussing transdimensional stasis."

Jack blinked.

"That's...great." He said after a moment's hesitation. The Doctor nods quickly and turns back to Tosh, saying something about a coronal energy brooch.

They go on like this for another nine hours. The day is mostly full of paperwork and a basketball game or two in the early afternoon. The Doctor gives names and properties to aliens that Torchwood barely knew existed and Torchwood amazes the Time Lord with what he calls their 'stunningly incompetent records'. Jack scowls slightly at this, but there's no real venom in either the Doctor's words or the Captain's expression.

It's around seven at night when Jack finally realizes the Doctor's intention to leave. He's been a bit antsy for the last several hours and when he mentions getting back to the TARIDS to check on her systems with a glance to Jack, the Captain nods and makes hi way over to the other man.

"You're off, then?" He asks.

"Yeah." The Doctor replies. "It's been nice here, but I really should get back to the TARDIS sometime soon."

Jack nods.

"Right. I get it."

The Doctor shoves both hands into his coat's pockets and stares at the ground. Without warning, he starts towards the large metal door leading out of Torchwood.

"Doc!" Jack calls. The Time Lord turns around. Jack digs in hos pocket for a moment, then tosses a key at the Doctor, who catches it.

"What's it for?"

"Master key." Jack answers. "Not sure if you know this, but ever since you soniced our locks, they haven't worked right."

The Doctor rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Sorry 'bout that." He apologized bashfully.

"Yeah." Says Jack. "So next time you drop by, just use the key, alright?"

"Right."

"'Cause there _will_ be a next time, am I right?"

"'Course."

Jack flashes a wide grin and as the Doctor steps through the rolling door, the Time Lord turns and gives a two fingered salute. The Captain snaps to attention and returns the gesture.

"You're welcome here. Any time." Jack reminds him.

"I'll keep it in mind." The Doctor assures, turning away and starting down the hallway.

_"Vale!"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter might take a while to post, as it's currently fifty pages long, not finished, and not even close to being completely typed. Oh well. It'll get posted at some point. Any feedback would be greatly appriciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, there are seven chapters of this story up on fanfiction.net lmao. I might just upload all of those tonight. There will be eight chapters total. Have fun reading this super overdue update.

The third time the Doctor shows up at Torchwood, Jack doesn't even know he's there.

It's around six in the evening and the Torchwood Three team is just now returning from the mission that had occupied most of their day. Actually, the word mission was rather misleading, as it had mostly comprised of several hours of driving, an hour search for the bit of alien tech that had come through the Rift -a seventeen dimension watch from Tyrannos- and a several hour drive back to the Hub.

All in all, as Captain Jack Harkness steps into the Hub, he decides that the day hasn't been one of great note. He tenses for a moment, and when no great disaster is the direct result of this thought, he continues on his way.

Maybe half an hour later, when the rest of the team has left, Jack tells Ianto that he can head back to his apartment and that he would stop by after a while. The younger man smiles and starts on his way. Jack glances around the Hub, checks that everything is more or less than it should be, and begins climbing the stairs leading up to his office. Reaching the office door, he digs into his coat pocket for the key, takes it out, puts it in the lock...and finds it to already be unlocked.

Jack frowns. He's fairly sure that he locked the door on his way out this morning. Of course, there's always the possibility that he did forget, but even with that, he turns the knob and starts to push the door open with caution, right hand down by his hip, just barely brushing against the revolver he keeps in his holster. The door is opened and Jack steps into his office, moving quickly despite the slight trepidation he feels. He looks around quickly, taking notice that everything was still in place just as it should be. His level of alarm drops to nearly nonexistent as he concludes that he really did just forget to lock the door this morning.

'Stupid mistake' he thinks, letting out a baited breath. Almost smiling at the whole thing, Jack takes another step into his office, hands slipping into his coat pockets, stride more relaxed-

He notices, in the corner of his eye, his cot. Notices that something isn't quite right about it. Confused, he turns to face the cot. Sees what's wrong. Doesn't believe it. Stumbles backwards int to his desk anyways, feeling as though he might be sick. Considers screaming.

The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Worlds, is face down on Jack's bed. This would probably be far less alarming if the Doctor's suit wasn't ripped beyond repair, if there weren't wounds, long and deep and fresh, marring the Time Lord's flesh. If his suit, normally deep blue, wasn't nearly black with blood, the dark liquid seeping onto the sheets below him, soaking them through a vibrant red.

This would probably be far less alarming if Jack could tell whether or not the Doctor was breathing.

It takes Jack a moment to process this properly, but when he does, he's by the other man's side in a second, and, God, he can smell the blood and it's enough to make his stomach turn. He leans over the Doctor and feels something very much like relief when he realizes that the Doctor is breathing. Quick and shallow, yes, but breathing. He's unconscious, Jack determines.

The Captain's eyes flit over the Doctor's back, only halfway taking in the damage done there, the skin and muscle and sinew that've been gashed through leaving flesh, bloodied and inflamed, in its wake. Jack's breath catches for just a moment. He recovers after a second and swears in every language he knows and then makes some up as he races out of his office and down the stairs, tripping over his own feet and not caring. He's in Owen's medical office on record time, grabs a roll of bandages, and shoves a bottle of alcohol into his coat pocket.

Three flights of stairs later, he's back by the Time Lord's side, retrieving a pocket knife from his pocket when his hand brushes against his mobile. He pulls that out, too, slides it open to its full keyboard, addresses a text to Ianto, and types.

'wont be coming by tonight. something's come up'

His hands are shaking, a fact evident in his misspelled words, the message only readable thanks to a spell check on the phone. He hits send and puts the phone on his desk without a second thought.

Ianto is at the Hub in under ten minutes.

He bursts into Jack's office unannounced, positively flustered, and is met with the sight of Jack by his cot, pale and shaking, seemingly trying to cut a top off of somebody.

"Who-"

At the sound of Ianto's voice, Jack's attention snaps to the Welshman and he speaks, voice hoarse and desperate.

"Help me."

Ianto's gaze flashes to the person on the bed once more, and with a start, he recognizes the shredded remain of a blue pinstripe suit.

He's next to the Time Lord in an instant, taking the knife from Jack, who steps back to his desk as the younger man starts in on the top, blatantly ignoring the grozing disease he feels about this situation. He's no idea what happened to the Doctor, and, truth be told, he's not entirely sure he wants to know. But obviously something happened and the result was an injured Time Lord and an incredibly shaken Jack about seven feet away from each other.

The top is cut off of the Doctor in less than a minute and tossed to the floor without a second thought before Ianto reaches for the alcohol and bandages.

Jack watches Ianto as he works, quickly and quietly, with an efficiency that Jack himself couldn't quite muster for this task. He's grateful for Ianto's ever-present professionalism, grateful that, although he knows and cares for the Doctor, he doesn't know the Time Lord well enough to be nearly as affected as Jack is, is able to push aside any personal feelings and focus on what needs to be done.

"...I think his ribs are broken." Ianto mentions at one point.

Meanwhile, Jack is trying not to throw up.

Some twenty minutes later, the Doctor's entire torso has been cleaned, wrapped up in neat white bandages, and Jack feels as though to the contents of his stomach are less likely to end up on the floor at any given moment. Ianto steps back from the still unconscious Time Lord and stands next to Jack, the both of them quiet as they watch the Doctor.

"...What the fuck happened to him?" Ianto eventually asks, because really, the question is just hanging in the air.

"...I don't know." Jack replies. And while his voice isn't quite as broken as before, there's still a note of hoarseness to it. "I really don't know."

He does know that when the Doctor comes around, he's going to get some answers from him. He knows that those answers probably won't be pleasant to hear.

He knows that he's scared.

~oOo~

Three hours later, the Doctor comes to. Ianto had been sent home long ago with thanks, and Jack has been sitting in his office chair, dozing off every once in a while before snapping awake and repeating the whole process again.

It's nearly ten when the Doctor blinks awake and it's sheer coincidence that Jack is awake to see it. The Time Lord's eyes flutter open and he glances down to his chest, then to Jack. He grimaces and sits up from the bed, positioning himself so that he's leaning against the wall. He refuses to meet Jack's gaze, and, for a while, neither of them speak.

Eventually it's Jack who breaks the silence.

"You can't keep doing this." He says, gesturing towards the other man, towards the shredded chest that lies just underneath the deceptively neat bandages, and, Christ, he looks exhausted. This time, the Doctor won't be skipping out of Torchwood after just one night's rest. Jack will make sure of it.

"...Says who?" The Doctor asks, his voice just barely a whisper.

Jack flinches at the Doctor's words, and for a moment he doesn't know quite what to say. He's right in front of the Time Lord in an instant, towering over the Doctor's slumped form, studying him, and, shit, did the Doctor really just say that?

"I say so." Jack snaps. "I say that you can't keep running around like this for months until you damn near get yourself killed!"

The Doctor examines the floor with great intensity and doesn't say anything. Jack lets out a carefully controlled breath and changes tactics.

"What happened to you?" He questions in what he hopes is a mild tone.

The Doctor shrugs slightly and Jack clenches his jaw.

"Goddamnit, Doc, you can't just show up like this and not tell me anything."

Beat.

"Where's Donna?" He asks after a moment. The Time Lord's entire body tenses.

"Landed on the wrong planet." The Doctor spits out. It takes Jack a moment to realize that the Doctor isn't going to answer his second question. "Wasn't terribly welcome there."

He's only getting half-truths. That much, at least, Jack can tell. But he can't know the other half of what the Doctor isn't telling him, like what happened when he landed on that planet, or the reason for Donna's absence, and he can't make the Time Lord say anything he doesn't want to. Resigned for the moment, Jack reaches to grab the other man's shoulder. His hand has just barely brushed the bare skin when the Doctor flinches away from Jack, hard and fast enough to ram his shoulder into the wall behind him. He fixes Jack with a stare, and if the Captain isn't very, very mistaken, it's one interlaced with a nearly tangible fear.

Concern wells anew in Jack's chest.

"Are you alright?"

The Doctor's throat works for a moment before he answers.

"...I'm fine." Pause. "Really. You don't need to worry."

Jack's full attention snaps to the Doctor.

"I don't need to- fuck, how can I not worry?!"

The Doctor's expression changes to confusion as he glances Jack over once more, then becomes carefully blank.

"I'm fine." He restates, dancing around Jack's question. Jack spins around, stalking towards his desk.

"You're not fucking fine." He growls under his breath, just loud enough for the Time Lord to hear. He turns around again. "Talk to me. I don't care what it is, just-...please."

The Doctor opens his mouth, then closes it again.

"Please, Jack..." He breathes.

Jack's clearly not getting an answer at the moment, or even a promise for an answer at some later time. The Immortal doesn't know if what he's feeling is a hotheaded flash of anger at the Time Lord's silence, or a gut-wrenching worry at his reluctance to say anything.

He decides it's possibly both.

"You can't just show up here all cut up and not tell me what happened to you, Doctor."

The Doctor blinks.

"Jack-" He starts.

"I thought you were dead!" Jack snarls.

"But I'm not." The Doctor points out, tone infuriatingly mild.

"I saw you, and I couldn't fucking think." Jack says, all the worry and anxiety and anger that had been cumulating over the lsat several hours flooding out. "I couldn't do anything."

The Doctor looks down to his torso.

"You did a fine job on this." He mentions.

"Ianto did that." Jack counters, visage stony. The Doctor's breath caught.

"...Ah...you were...?"

"Trying not to throw up."

The Doctor swallows and gives a slight nod.

"Right."

Jack's jaw clenches some as he tries to remain calm in the face of the Doctor's apparent indifference.

"So you can see why I think you owe me a bit of an explanation here."

Beat.

"How long has it been for you?"

Jack glares at the Doctor, incredulous.

"Fucking hell-" He breaks off. "...Year and a half. How long for you?"

"Probably about the same."

Jack arches an eyebrow.

"Probably?"

"Time traveller." The Doctor reminds him. Jack twitches slightly.

"Am I going to get a straight answer out of you any time soon?"

The Doctor gives a small shrug and something inside of Jack snaps.

"Fine." The Captain snaps. "Don't say anything. See if I care."

The Doctor winces, barely noticable, before he relaxes and leans against the wall. He doesn't speak.

"...I'll be fine on my own for a while..." He mentions after a moment.

Jack looses a bark of laughter, sharp and humorless.

"Not fucking likely."

This time the Doctor really does flinch at Jack's words, prominent enough that there's no way that Jack can't notice it. But, damnit, he's just about done with the evasive Time Lord. He smiles wryly and turns away from the Doctor.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours."

The Doctor blinks at Jack's lack of warning or explanation.

"Right."

The door opens.

"Sleep. Or something. Just don't get yourself killed."

The Time Lord nods mutely.

Jack glances over his shoulder once more, one foot already out the door.

"I'll see you later."

The door slams shut.

And there's that. Lots more coming, feel free to give suggestions for this part or just leave a review or whatever. I might actually be able to work something in for someone this time. Maybe. Or PM me, I'm usually pretty good about replying. Anywho, thanks for reading, have a great day, and DFTBA!


	4. Chapter 4

By eleven twenty, Jack is at Ianto's flat, dodging the Welshman's questions about the Doctor, and why Jack is at his place instead of Torchwood.

"Look, Ianto, just leave it, alright? He'll be fine for a few hours." Jack finally says, voice flat.

Ianto takes the hint and the questions cease.

By eleven forty-three, they're in bed, Ianto acting as a comically small big spoon at Jack's unspoken, unintentional request.

By eleven fifty-four, they're asleep.

~oOo~

By eleven fifty-five, the Doctor has just woken up, his breathing shallow and uneven. He's covered in a thin sheen of sweat and trying not to scream.

He can't tell Jack.

~oOo~

At eight thirty-seven the next morning, the door to Jack's office unlocks and the Doctor's eyes snap open, drawing him from semi-consciousness and back into reality. Jack steps into the room, glancing the Doctor over.

"...You were sleeping?" He asks. The Doctor hesitates and then nods. Jack seems to take his answer at face value and the Time Lord can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Jack blinks in surprise.

"That's...that's good." He says. The Doctor cringes but doesn't say anything to argue. Truth be told, he hasn't had proper sleep in weeks. But he feels as though telling Jack this wouldn't help to make the situation any better.

After last night, the Doctor has no wishes to agitate Jack again.

There's a small pause before,

"Ianto's starting coffee. If you want anything." Jack offers. The Doctor gives a small nod.

"I'll just go tell him." He says, pushing off the bed and onto his feet. His jaw clenches because, Rassilon, everything hurts, and a look of surprise flashes across Jack's features.

"You probably shouldn't-"

"I'm fine, Jack." The Time Lord cuts off.

"Your ribs are broken." Jack counters.

"I've noticed that, funny enough."

Jack rolls his eyes alongside a muttered 'fine', and the Doctor starts across the room, trying to hide the prominent limp that accompanies his steps. He doesn't do very well. As he opens the door and walks out of the room, Jack is left wondering exactly how the Doctor was able to get from wherever the hell it is the TARDIS is at all the way up to the bed he collapsed on. He quickly gives up and joins the Time Lord on his walk to find Ianto.

They find him quickly enough and the Doctor places his request for tea with four sugars. Ianto nods and hands Jack his cup of coffee. The Immortal accepts it gratefully and turns to the Doctor as Ianto wanders off, presumably to start the tea.

"...Sorry 'bout last night." He mutters. The Doctor's eyebrows shoot up.

"You don't need to be." He replies after a moment, voice cautious.

"I still am, though." Jack retorts. "But, damnit, Doc, I need you to talk to me. You can't just keep everything bottled up."

At Jack's words, the Doctor twitches, eyebrows furrowing, jaw line becoming taut.

"I can do as I bloody well please with myself, Jack." He says, voice closer to a growl than not. Jack shakes his head and sighs.

"You are the most difficult person I've ever met, swear to God."

The Doctor remains silent.

"Fine. You'll talk on your own time. I get it."

Beat.

"How's your archives coming?" The Time Lord asks suddenly, entire demeanor changing into something much lighter, but no less dangerous. Jack shrugs.

"Depends on who's looking at them." He answers.

"Mmm. Quite." The Doctor agrees. "Mind if I take a poke around?"

"Not really."

The Doctor takes a step back.

"Right then. I'll just...hang about there for a while." He says awkwardly. Jack gives a nod.

"Go ahead. Probably be helpful." He pauses. "The rest of the team'll show up in a while if you want to see them. Toshiko's been aching for someone who understands anything she says."

"Noted." The Doctor replies.

A moment passes and the Doctor scampers -there really is no other word for it- away from Jack and down the stairs, faster than he probably should have been able to, what with his various injuries, and disappears from sight as he makes his way towards the archives.

Jack watches for as long as he can, then turns away. He's really not sure what else to do.

~oOo~

Four hours later, when the Doctor hasn't resurfaced from the archives even once, it occurs to Jack that he should probably go make sure the Time Lord hasn't tripped and cracked his thick skull open on the archive's cement floors. With an only slightly exagerated sigh of exasperation, he lets his team know where he's headed and starts towards the archives. He descends the stairs, works his way through the underground labernyth, and soon enough finds himself just past a corner, he stops abruptly, ears perked for a noise he thought he'd heard.

Pause.

Then, after a moment, the sound finds him again.

"Ihy, kasyn, kon, kasyn-"

The words themselves are melodic, almost musical, but the voice is not. The voice delivering the words is shaky and halting, nearing on the edge of deperate. The words stop for a moment and Jack hears something that could pass for a sob. The Captain swears under his breath and turns the corner into the archives.

"Doc?" he calls, glancing around for the Time Lord. It takes him only a second to spot the other man. He's pressed against the wall, curled in on himself with hands gripping at his hair; his breaths are drastically uneven and something that looks like a piece of alien technolgy is shattered at his feet.

Jack takes a cautious step forwards, then another, and one more after that.

"Doctor?" he asks again, hoping he can attract the Time Lord's attention. When he still doesn't get an answer he walks, slowly and carefully, until he's within arm's length of the Doctor, and, Christ, he's shaking like mad, every inch of his body screaming fear. Jack reaches his hand out to the Doctor and is almost surprised that the other man is even concious enough of his surroundings to shift away from Jack's touch. Mostly, the Captain is unsettled by this.

"Doctor, I need you to talk to me." he says, keeping his voice as calm as he can. Admittably, it's not remarkably calm.

"ImfineI'mfineI'mfineI'mfine," the words are a whispered mantra from the Doctor, becoming more cracked with every repitition. Jack kneels in front of him, leans forwards, reaches his hands out to the Doctor's shoulder, and-

And finds himself shoved to the cold cement floor.

The Doctor is on his feet now, some indiscernible blend of emotion flashing across his features -painfearguilthateshock- and he looks ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger.

"Don't touch me."

It's meant to be a command, snarled and solid, but comes out as a shattered plea.

Jack finds it no less terrifying.

Slowly, eyes trained on the Doctor, Jack climbs to his feet.

"The hell?" he asks once he's drawn back up to his full height. The Doctor blinks.

"I- I don't-" he starts, then breaks off, eyeing the open doorway out of the archives. Jack notices the Time Lord's shift of attention and is able to anticipate his next move.

Which occurs about half a second later.

He starts towards the doorway out of the room, just quickly enough that despite Jack's best efforts he can't quite catch the Doctor before he manage to skitter from the area. Jack clambers towards the room's exit and somes to an almost comically abrupt halt just outside the doorway, galncing either way for any sign of the Time Lord.

There are none.

He swears, none too quietly, and leans agaisnt the wall.

"You can't keep doing this!" he calls, voice ringing throughout the underground maze. "You-" he breaks off, pushing from the wall towards the stairway back to the main level of the Hub. "Christ..." he mutters.

Forty feet away and around another corner, the Doctor waits with baited breath.

Jack hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head and climbs the stairs.

"...Talk to you later then, Doc."

~oOo~

Ianto watches as Jack paces, almost incessently, in his office. He's a bit more of a people person than Jack - a bit less blunt, a bit more empathetic- and he's trying to make some sense of what the other man has told him.

"He won't fucking talk."

Pause.

"You have no idea what happened to him?"

Jack shakes his head miserably.

"I walk down there and he's talking to himself, shaking. Try to talk to him and get knocked on my ass. Then he disappears. It wasn't exactly what you would call a quality conversation."

Ianto hums in agreence.

"I see."

"...What do you think?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What-...I don't know what to do."

"Maybe he's honestly not ready to talk about it yet."

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't exactly explain why he was falling apart in the archives."

Ianto sighed.

"I honestly don't know, Jack. You know him a hell of a lot better than I do. People are complicated enough on their own, but the Doctor...he's like an enigma covering a secret stacked ontop of a riddle."

Jack snorts slightly, but nods. Silence ensues.

"He's scaring me."

Ianto's breath hitched. The immortal, unshakable, walking inuendo of a man that was Jack Harkness did not often admitt to being scared, and it was more seldom still for him to admitt it to anybody but himself.

"...He's here, at least." the Welshman offered. "He's safe."

Jack's attention snaps to Ianto.

"Is he, though?" he challenges.

And Ianto hesistates to answer. Technically, yes, the Doctor is safe. Probably there are very few places more secure than Torchwood. Physically, the Time Lord is safe from Daleks and Cybermen and whatever the hell it was that had put him in his current state. But...

Ianto gets the feeling that Jack is referring to something more than the Doctor's physical well-being. The Captain's anecdote of the Doctor dissolving into a mess in the archived was...a bit unsettling to say the least.

The thought occurs to Ianto that the Doctor could be in Torchwood, protected from the whole universe and all the monsters in it, and still not be safe from himself.

The younger man meets Jack's gaze, opens his mouth, and closes it again.

Jack notices Ianto's hesitation, the way his usually constant stream of words wavers, and takes it for the uncertaintly it is. He doens't say anything, but his expression is almost one of disappointment, as though he were really hoping that Ianto would prove him wrong, would whip out a diagram and explain reasons A, B, and C of why the Doctor was perfectly safe.

Ianto's not quite sure why he feels so guilty that he can't do that.

He doesn't have time to wonder as Jack turns, glances out the window of the office, and gives a violent start.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." he mutters, just loudly enough for Ianto to know that he was meant to hear it.

"What?" Ianto asks. Jack motions to the window and Ianto turns his attention to it as well.

"He's talking to Owen." The Immortal says, somewhere between exasperated and frusturated. "He won't talk to me, he won't even talk to you, but he'll talk to fucking Owen." Pause. "They don't even know eachother."

"If they don't know eachother well, they're less likely to press for personal information." Ianto offers as an explanation.

'He's not comfortable around you yet'

Jack hears the underlying message and blinks, but otherwise doesn't react.

"...Fucking Owen..."

~oOo~

"How's that coming along?"

Owen jumps despite the gentle tone of the question and nearly drops the vial of purple liquid in his hand.

"Jesus Christ." he snaps, turning on his heel to face the source of the voice. It's a man with wild hair, pinstripe bottoms, and bright white bandages wrapped around his entire chest. Owen has a vague recollection of meeting him somewhere before and Jack had mentioned something about his presence in Torchwood several hours earlier, so he refrains from reaching for his gun.

"The hell happened to you?" he questions.

"Nothing much." the other man replies. "What's that?" he asks, motioning ot the vial in Owen's hand.

The medical doctor snorts slightly at the ther man's answer, but glances to the vial anyways.

"Multi-species sedative." he answers. The other man, the Doctor, if Owen's memory serves, nods. Owen's gaze flickers over his torso again.

"Who did that?" he finally asks. It's a decent enough bandaging job, but Owen thinks it should probably be redone, both for proper technique and sanitation reasons.

"Ianto."

"Jones?" Owen questions, taken aback.

"The same. Last night." Pause. "Well, this morning, but no one's counting."

"Huh," says Owen. "They should probably be changed."

The Doctor shrugs.

"It's fine."

Despite himself, the beginnings of a smirk works its way across Owen's features.

"You ever hear of an infection? They tend to happen when you don't change bandages."

The Doctor studies Owen, expression vaguely distrusting, and the medical doctor notices when the other man's gaze flits up past him. Owen turns to see what he's looking at. He glances towards Jack's office and Owen thinks he can see the Captain's shadow up there now and again. He casts a skeptical look at the Doctor and sighs slightly.

"I won't tell Jack what I see." he says, exasperated. The Doctor blinks. Nods.

"Alright." he agrees. Owen snorts.

"God forbid somebody actually fucking care about you." he mutters. The Doctor remains silent. Owen rolls his eyes slightly and motions towards his autopsy table. "Get on."

The Doctor does so and Owen starts in on the bandages, finding their tail end and unraveling them. They come undone easily and he discards of them, glancing to the Doctor's torso to examine his injuries.

His breath catches-

And releases again, because he, Owen Harper, is a doctor and is not easily shaken. And he doesn't care enough about the Doctor to be conerned. Really. He's not. Not even a little.

Instead, he arches a slightly disbelieving eyebrow.

"Yeah, those," he waves a disinterested hand towards the various lacerations that marr the Time Lord's chest. "Are going to need to be cleaned."

They're already swollen and honestly qute nasty, but also scream of potential infection. As much as he may not care, Owen is a doctor for a reason and he's not about to let someone keel over from an easily preventable blood infection.

The Doctor doesn't argue, doesn't say much of anything really, and Owen takes this to be an agreement.

He sighs, fetches a rag alongside a bottle of alcohol, and starts in.

~oOo~

It's perhaps seven minutes before he notices them.

He dabbing an alcohol saturated rag on the Doctor's back, ignoring the occassional hiss from the other man, when he sees that something isn't quite right. He ceases his cleaning for a moment, halfway notices the Time Lord's entire body relaxing, and leans in a bit closer to his back to get a better look at the Doctor's back.

If he looks closely, past the open wounds and inflamed flesh, he can just barely make out variously sized, slightly raised white marks. He's confused for a moment, the pieces don't quite-

Scars.

His back is littered with scars.

Owen blinks, shakes his head slightly, and re-examines the skin, looking only for the scars. Searching specifically for them, they become blaringly obvious and Owen feels a very slight trepidation. The scars are many times more numerous than the current cuts and Owen twitches some when he catches sight of several particulalry unsettling ones, thick and running more than a foot.

And something else about them doesn't sit quite right with Owen either. They don't have the ragged edges of other such scars that Owen has seen, caused by flying shrapnel and the like, but they're not neat enough for them to be in any surgical, yet they still seem to have been inflicted. Turning his attention back to the current cuts, Owen sees that those won't heal nicely either, will end up looking like the rest of the old injuries that afflict the Time Lord.

If the injuries were caused neither by accident or careful incision, yet had still been purposely inflicted-

Well.

That had all sorts of implications.

"Owen?"

It's the Doctor's voice, cutting through Owen's train of thought. The medical doctor realizes he's done nothing for the last minute and quickly presses the rag back onto one of the Time Lord's wounds. His jaw is rather more clenched than he would like to admitt, and he's a bit more tense than he had been just a few moments ago.

The Doctor goes silent as his body goes rigid at Owen's touch again.

Owen finishes quickly and circles around the table to fully face the Doctor. He fixes him with a scrutinizing gaze, and finds much of the same on the Doctor's chest as on his back. His front, too, is covered is fading scars amoungst the more recent cuts, and Owen's discomfort with the situation increases tenfold.

"You alright there?" the Doctor asks, watching Owen carefully. Owen nods.

"Yeah," he replies, shaking his head slightly. "Just need to...finish this bit up." he says. The Doctor gives a slight nod and says nothing more. Owen hesitates for a moment and then continues to apply alcohol to the other man's chest.

He's finished soon enough, puts the rag away, and grabs a fresh roll of bandages to start in on with. He doesn't miss how the Time Lord continues to flinch at even the lightest contact. Neither of them speak.

By the time the bandages are put on -tightly and properly this time around- another half hour is gone and the Doctor, true to his character, is looking a bit antsy for having to stay in the same place for nearly an hour. Something like forty-five seconds after Owen is done, the Doctor is standing up and pacing around the medlab impatiently. Owen rolls his eyes slightly at this and tells the Time Lord that he's free to go. The Doctor thanks Owen and then wanders off to...well, wherever it is that he spends his time at.

Owen, for his part, puts away his medical supplies and starts towards the stairway that leads up to Jack's office. True, he'd told the Doctor that he wouldn't tell Jack what he'd seen, but he also hadn't been expecting on being presented with what he had been. He's shaken, to say the least. Owen finishes climbing the stairs and reaches for the doorknob. Before he can open it, however, the door is pulled open, revealing Jack.

"Your friend is seriously fucked up." Owen snaps, no cushioning in either his words or his voice.

Jack blinks, taken aback.

"I'm sorry?" he asks, surprised.

"What the hell happened to him?" Owen demands to know, and he's caught off guard by the anger he feels coursing through his veins.

"We don't know." It's Ianto who speaks this time, standing on the other side of the room. "He hasn't told us anything."

Owen gives a disdainful snort as regains the ability to speak.

"What did he tell you?"

"He didn't tell me anything." Owen retorts.

"Then what-"

"He shouldn't be flinching like that, Jack."

"I know, I've noticed that, but-" Jack starts.

"And the scars?!"

Jack's full attention snaps to Owen.

"What?"

"He's covered in them. They're all over his chest, his arms. Bit hard to pick out at first with all the inflamation, but they're there."

"What are they from?"

Owen hesitates half a second.

"...Nobody should have scars like that, Jack."

"Owen." the taller man insisted sharply.

"They didn't come from any accident. And they were definetly inflicted, but not, y'know, carefully."

Jack gives a small sigh and buries his face in his hands.

"What are you trying to say?" he questions.

"The flinching, Jack. The flinching and the scars and the secrecy -he made me promise not to tell you anything- and the fear. Think about it."

So Jack does. He thinks about the Time Lord's refusal to say anything, more prominent than usual, about how skittish he is, how he leans away from contact. He thinks of the unadultured, animalistic fear that had filled his eyes when Jack had grabbed him by the shoulders. He thinks of Owen's description -inflicted-, and something in his thinking shifts. His enire body stiffens, becoming positively rigid.

"...Shit." he hisses through clenched teeth. His gaze doesn't quite meet Owen's, but it's close. "Are you sure?" he asks, an edge of desperation in his voice.

"Pretty damn sure, Jack. Injuries like those don't just happen."

Jack blinks. Opens his mouth to speak. Closes it again.

"What you're saying is that...the Doctor was-.."

"Tortured." Owen says bluntly. "Probably. Yes."

The Captain let's out a very controlled breath, turns, and takes a few steps away from Owen.

"Fuck."

Beat.

"Fuck."

In the corner of the room, Ianto watches, putting everything in order and coming to the same conclusion that Jack must have. He doesn't like where it leads him, but...it does make sense.

Jack spins on his feel, back to Owen, expression unreadable.

"Where is he?" the Immortal demands to know, tone one of fire and ice and rage, and every syllable is completely, imposibly controlled.

Owen, in response, shrugs.

"He wandered off." he offers.

"And you just let him go?!" Jack snaps, increadulous.

"Well.."

Jack swears under his breath.

"Probably in the archives." he muttered, starting out of the office.

"Jack," Ianto calls. "We should give him some space."

"He won't tell us anything unless we confront him about it. You know he won't."

Ianto sighed.

"I'm not saying that we shouldn't confront him about it, I'm saying that maybe we should give it a few hours is all."

"Why?"

A slight scoff escapes Ianto.

"You're not exactly excreeting calm at the moment, Jack."

For half a moment, Jack looks almost offended before a look of resignation settles onto his features.

"...Right." he breathes.

Silence swallows the room.

"Has the Rift report for yesterday been done?" asks Owen.

Ianto shakes his head.

"Not yet, no. Might as well get on that."

Owen gives a curt nod, Ianto grabs a stack of papers, and Jack glowers.


	5. Chapter 5

"Doc!"

The Time Lord jumped at Jack's voice, then spins on his heel to face the other man.

"Captain," he replies, a slight smile gracing his features before disappearing just a moment later. Jack arches an eyebrow.

"Where've you been?" he asks. The Doctor shrugs,

"Here in the archives, mostly." he says, voice quiet, eyes averted to the ground. Jack nods and leans against the wal behind him.

"...Been looking for you, you know." he mentions, casually as he can manage. The Doctor gives a slight sigh.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Jack, that shouldn't have happened, it's just-" he breaks off, shaking his head.

"It's just what?" Jack presses.

"Nothing," the Doctor dismisses easily. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"...Don't lie to me, Doctor."

The Doctor blinks.

"...I'm not lying to you, Jack." he says, voice cautious.

"Bullshit," Jack calls, stepping closer to the Time Lord. He doesn't reach out to the other man, not at the moment at least, because, for now, it is so absolutely vital that Jack doesn't scare him away.

The Doctor notices Jack's advancement and takes a nervous step back.

"Jack, I don't-"

"I know what happened to you."

The Doctor stops.

Jack stops.

Everything stops.

"You can't-" the Doctor starts, voice cracking while Jack notices a slight tremor in his hands.

"I do."

Silence.

"Doc-"

"Stop, Jack." the Time Lord demands as steadily as he can manage. "Just...stop."

Jack shakes his head as the Doctor scrutinizes him.

"...Owen, wasn't it?" he snorts quietly. "Should've known he'd notice."

His voice was rather higher pitched than usual, teetering on the knife-edge of hysterical.

"Please, Doc-"

"There was a bloody reason I told him not to say anything to you."

Jack had heard the Doctor like this before on few occassions. This was the voice he used when he was properly furious, the voice that destroyed Daleks and masterminds and madmen.

Still, he snaps back.

"And why was that?!"

"Because this would happen!"

"And that's a bad thing?" Jack challenges. The Doctor sets his jaw.

"I'm fine. You don't need to know and you don't need to be concerned."

Jack twitches slightly.

"I think I do need to know when you show up here half dead. I think I do need to be concerned about you when you're hiding shit like this and I know for a fact that you're not fine or any variation thereof." Pause. "I think I need to check on you when you've been hurt."

The Doctor's jaw is clenched, hands balled up into fists and every inch of him screams run.

"...Please, Jack..." he manages to choke out.

"Please what? Leave you alone? Never bring it up again? Let you try to deal with this by yourself?"

The Time Lord says nothing and refuses to even look at Jack.

"Look, Doc, I've tried not to pry too much before. Yeah, I've asked why you haven't been sleeping, made you do that, made you eat. But for the most part I've let your buisness be you own, yeah?"

The Doctor hesitates, then nods mutely.

"You being hurt like that is where I draw the line and start making it my buisness, too." the Captain says, voice steely. The Doctor flinches at Jack's words and fixes his gaze on the floor. He's trembling properly now, with his entire body, and Jack thinks that perhaps he's gone a bit too far a bit too fast. Honestly, he's surprised that he's gotten even this far.

It's enough for the moment, he decides, and backs off.

"The rest of the team is going out for drinks later, if you want to come with." Jack offers, changing the subject as seamlessly as he can manage. The Doctor seems relieved and arches an eyebrow.

"Do you always go out drinking on tuesday nights?" he asks, voicequirking. Jack shrugs.

"When the occassion calls."

The Doctor gives a derisive snort but nods nonetheless.

"Might as well come, s'pose."

Despite himself, Jack feels a slight snile pull at his lips.

"You look like you could do with a meal anyways." he notes. The Doctor hesitates a moment, barely noticeable, before nodding.

"I could, yeah." he agrees amd it's something along the lines of half a second later that the implcations of his words hit Jack.

"When was the last time, you, y'know," had reasonable access to food, weren't trying to starve yourself "ate?"

The Doctor smiles, empty and twisted and every pounce gut-wrenching.

"Stop, Jack."

Jack stops.

~oOo~

As Ianto point out, perhaps bringing an increadibly input sensitive Doctor to a bar isn't among the best ideas he's ever had.

As Jack points out, the Doctor needs some nourishment, and seems okay enough at the moment to put on a mask and fake a smile.

Jack doesn't point that the Doctor doesn't have to be at all okay to hide behind a facade.

Neither of them point out that they are utterly lost.

~oOo~

The team is at the bar a few hours later with the Doctor in tow. It's an admitably shady place with ominous figures lurking in shadowing corners, but service is good and the drinks are cheap, so no one's complaining. Jack's on his fifth beer, chatting idly with Ianto, Gwen makes friendly conversation with some of the more trustworthy patrons, while Owen flirts relentlessly. Toshiko and the Doctor have been discussing, well, something, with lots of big words and strangely conjugated verbs for a good long time now.

Though he's distracted by Ianto and teetering the line between pleasenty buzzed and shit drunk, Jack's coherent enough to be glad that Tosh and the Doctor are keeping eachother company. Tosh has been aching for someone she could have an intelligent conversation with for months and it's probably a good thing that the Doctor is stimulated, distracted from all the noise of the bar.

"-'Cause you see, the Arton energy would overload it." the Time Lord explained. Tosh arched an eyebrow.

"Then install a more capable capacitor." she suggested, watching the other man grab a chip from the basket on his right.

"No, you're not getting it, it would overload any capacitor, reguardless of how much energy it could hold."

"Why?" Tosh inquired.

"Because it doesn't exist."

Tosh rolled her eyes some and the Doctor corrected himself.

"Well, not anymore it doesn't."

"You can't just destroy energy, that's not how physics works."

The Doctor hesitated for a moment, fixing Toshiko with an increadulous stare.

"...Sometimes I forget how primitive humans are." he mutters, shaking his head. Toshiko laughs, drawing a smile from the Doctor.

"Okay, nevermind how, but why was Arton energy destroyed?"

The Doctor blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it.

"It- There was a war." he blurts out. "And it- I wasn't...It was a powerful energy resource and I couldn't-" his words break off and he glances to Tosh before focusing on the ground. There is a soft 'oh' from Tosh before the Doctor looks up again, flashes an entirely unconvincing grin.

"Moving on though I should think, Toshiko," he stops speaking again as Toshiko's hand grabs one of his own. He tenses, then slowly looks down to see what she's doing.

His hand is clamped tightly around his own wrist and now that he sees it, he realizes he's been digging his fingernails into his skin and the pain of the action fully registers. Gently, Toshiko lifts his hand from his wrist and places it on his leg. Her gaze flashes to the Doctor's wrist and her eyebrows knit together in worry when she notices the small, cresent-shaped wells of blood that now marr the inside of his forearm. The Doctor quickly pulls down the sleeve of the World War Two trench coat that Jack had lent him in place of his own brown coat.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Didn't realise I was...doing that."

"Are you sure you're-"

"Y'know," the Doctor starts. "When I was in the archives, there were some very interesting schematics. Not at all of Earth orgin. Have you tried to construct them? 'Cause, you, Toshiko, I wouldn't put them past you."

A tangent, meant to distract, to disarm. Toshiko doesn't miss the compliment for what is was, but she doesn't miss the underlying message of the words either.

Topic closed.

She's not known the Time Lord long. From the few times they have conversed, she knows that he's increadibly intelligent and increadibly kind.

She also knows that he's not someone she ever wishes to push over the edge, and plays along with his deterent.

With a sigh, she shakes her head.

"I've tried, but we've never had the materials."

The Doctor nods and launches right into how Tosh could adapt a toaster into a resister compatible for many of the blueprints.

They talk casually for the next few hours, of science and technology and various alien misadventures.

Both of them seem to be at ease but Tosh can't help feel that there is a hidden tension in the Doctor's frame, a glint in his eye she can't quite place, a forced aspect to his smiles that make him seem a bit less genuine and a bit more dangerous.

She doesn't dare ask if she's right.


	6. Chapter 6

"Jack, really, just come home with me."

"...Don't wanna leave Doc alone." the Immortal replies, voice slurred.

Ianto sighs and the Doctor arches an eyebrow as he leans against the large metal door leading into the Hub.

"Tuesday night." he reminds the Welshman. Ianto shoots him a glare but says nothing, turning back to face Jack.

"Honestly, now-"

"I can look after him tonight." the Time Lord interjects.

"You really don't need to."

The Doctor gives a half smile.

"Go home. Get some sleep. We'll be alright."

Ianto looks skeptical, glancing over the unwell men.

"Really." the Doctor insisted. "Take the night off."

"...If you're sure."

"Very." the Doctor confirmed. Ianto ran a hand through his hair.

"Thanks." he says, and means it. The Doctor gives a slight nod as Ianto straightens his jacket and starts towards the door, albeit a bit awkwardly. A code is entered and the metal entrance rolls open. He glances to the Time Lord.

"I'll, ah, see you tomorrow then."

"I imagine you will."

Beat.

"Goodnight." he says.

"Goodnight, Ianto Jones."

The Welshman starts down the dimly lit hallway and the entrance rolls back into place with a solid thud.

The Doctor turns to Jack, who is leaning heavily on a desk.

"Are you usually like this, or is it just when I show up?"

"What?" Jack asks. The Doctor sighs.

"Nothing." he mutters.

An uneasy silence consumes the pair.

"Time 's it?" Jacks asks after a moment.

"One o' seven." the Doctor answers without hesitation. Jack opens his mouth to say something but the Time Lord cuts him off before he can start.

"Bed ror you, I should think." he says, voice firm. The Captain gives a nearly unperceivable nod, then pushes himself off the desk and nearly falls over. The Doctor is by his side in an instant, steadying the Immortal.

"Easy there, Jack." he murmurers. He takes a step forwards, both hands still on his friend's shoulders, and Jack takes the step with him. Slowly, the pair begin towards and up the stairs leading to Jack's office.

"Doc?"

Beat.

"Are you gonna leave t'night?"

The Doctor is taken off guard by the questions. It's a good three stairs before he answers.

"No."

"You lyin'?"

The Doctor blinks.

"No."

"You sure?" Jack asks, sounding dubious. "'Cos you do that a lot. Lie t' me."

"...I am so sorry, Jack."

The Doctor sincerely doubts that Jack will even remember that this conversation took place come morning, but he still feels the obligation to apologize, to try to make up for what he can, while he can.

"Just want you t' be safe." the Captain mutters. "Happy. Why's th't so damn hard?"

A lump rose in the Doctor's throat and he did his best to swallow it.

"I-" he cuts himself off. "I am happy, Jack." he says after a moment, forcing a sickly grin.

"...Lyin' t' me again, Doc."

The Doctor stiffens as he and Jack ascended the final stair. He clenches his jaw slightly but doesn't argue. He doesn't really feel like arguing with Jack in the first place, and it wouldn't do much good either, with the Captain as he is.

He wouldn't be fooling anyone anyways.

They manage their way over to the door to Jack's office. The Doctor rummages in Jack's heavy coat, and withdraws a key. It's the only key he can find, and sure enough it fits into the lock and turns with no trouble. The door is pushed open, the room entered, and Jack led over to the cot onto which he collapses. Within a few seconds he was on his side, curling into himself. Silently, the Doctor pulls a blanket, crumpled at the end of the cot over Jack, then turns from the other man and starts to walk away.

"You should sleep." he hears Jack call, and he stops. He should sleep. He really, really, should sleep. He's exhausted and about ready to keel over, and if there's one thing he should do, it's sleep-

Memories of the last night flash through his mind, and quite suddenly, he thinks he's never been more awake than this.

"...Slept last night." the Time Lord. It's not as blatant of a lie as it could be, at least. Probably he slept half an hour. Probably he got enough sleep to keep his laughs sharp and his smiles bright for a little while longer, at least.

Probably.

"Doesn't mean you sh'ldn't sleep t'night."

"I'm fine, Jack."

A moment passes and Jack gives a slight grunt, clumsily shifting his body into a more comfortable position. The Time Lord waits with baited breath, but nothing else seems to be forthcoming from the Captain. He gives a curt nod and steps outside the door, closing it behind him as quietly as he could manage.

He seems to have convinced Jack of his well-being for the moment, at least. A heavily intoxicated, utterly exhausted, and very confused Jack that it, but still.

The Doctor can't quite help but wish that it was always this easy.

~oOo~

Nine Hours Later

"...Holy fucking Christ..."

The Doctor's attention snaps from the desk papers he'd been reading to Jack, who was now sitting up in his cot, head in his hands.

"Mmm, not quite." the Doctor says. "Just me."

Jack glances to the Time Lord.

"Don't let me drink that much again." he says. The Doctor shrugs.

"Talk to Ianto about that."

For a moment, Jack is quiet, glancing the Doctor up and down.

"What, are you surprised I'm still here?"

Pause.

"No." he decides. The Doctor arches an eyebrow. That didn't exactly match up with what Jack had said last night.

Beat.

"Should I be surprised?" the Captain asks.

"Not really."

"...Why'd you ask?"

"Why not?" the Doctor dismisses lightly. Jack doesn't look convinced, but says nothing.

"What time is it?" he questions.

"'Bout ten thirty.

Jack grunts slightly.

"Anyone else here?"

"Not sure."

"You been sleeping?" Jack asks, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

"...Yeah." the Doctor replies after a moment.

"You sure about that?"

The Doctor nods.

"Alright." Jack pauses. "You sure there's no space cure for hangovers?"

Despite himself, the Doctor smiles slightly.

"Pretty sure, yeah."

The Immortal rolls his eyes some and stands up from the cot. Though he's not entirely steady, he's much better than he'd been last night. The Doctor, too, stands up and together they walk out the office. As it would turn out, the rest of the team had arrived and were sitting, coffee and tea before them, at the conference table, talking amoung themselves.

"Ianto!" Jack calls. The Welshman's attention turns to the Captain. "Any coffee left?"

Ianto nods and Jack gives his thanks.

"You want any, Doc?" Jack asks as they walk down the stairs.

"Nah," the Doctor replies. "Cuppa tea would be nice though."

"'Course."

The two dissolve into silence as Jack pours his coffee and the Doctor waits for his water to biol.

"This...this kettle, Jack.

Jack glances to the Doctor.

"Yeah? What about it?"

"It's not exactly of earth origin, is it?"

"Well...not exactly, no." Jack admits, rubbing at the back of his neck with his coffee free hand.

"Welcome to Torchwood," the Doctor began with a vague motioning of his hands. "We're supposed to be a high security government agency dedicated to protecting the earth, but in reality we play basketball and nick alien tea kettles."

Despite watching him, Jack can't quite tell what the intent of the Doctor's comment was and settles for a small smile as his response. It fades as he glances to the Doctor once again.

"As happy as I'll be when I can say I've gotten into my clothes, I really am going to need my jacket back, Doc."

The Doctor gives a nod, taking the kettle off the heat and poured the water into a readily available mug, brewing his tea.

"That's Owen's by the way." Jack notes. "Drop it and he will kill you."

Pause.

"Funny, he never struck me as the sentimental type." the Time Lord remarks. "Speaking of which, whatever happened to my suit top? I like that top."

"Took you a while to ask." Jack says.

"Been a bit preoccupied." the Doctor retorts.

"To be fair, it was pretty torn when we found you."

"Jack."

"Ianto and I...we cut it off."

The Doctor nods.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Well, you need your jack, I need mine, my top apparently doesn't exist anymore, and these pants aren't exactly clean." the Doctor says, voice brisk. Jack can't quite tell how genuine that note of alertness is.

"I assume you've got stuff in the TARDIS?" Jack asks, catching onto where the conversation was going. The Time Lord nods.

"Yep."

"Where is the TARDIS, anyways?"

"The Plass."

Jack blinks.

"We'd have noticed." Jack says bluntly.

"You've been occupied, too, Jack."

"Yeah, but we'd have still noticed a police box in the middle of the Plass, Doc."

The Doctor quirks an eyebrow.

"Perception filter."

Beat.

"Oh."

"Shall we, then?" the Time Lord starts, walking towards the Hub's exit. Jack jogs up next to him and the two men walk through the hallways leading to the Tourist Information Center in relative silence. They walk outside and work their way to the Plass, a strong, salty breeze blowing with them.

And then Jack notices the TARDIS.

It's just sort of there. In broad daylight, no efforts to be even remotely hidden, though no one is taking notice it, is the TARDIS.

"...You know, the last time you landed here the TARDIS seemed to have a spacial disagreement with the spot and now there's an area that nobody notices." Jack remarks. The Doctor gives a slight hum.

"Yes, well, we also opened and closed the Rift then, so there was bound to be a little extra damage." he says, voice mild as he unlocks the ship's door.

"Hey, Doc?" Jack asks as he steps into the TARDIS.

"What?"

The Captain hesitates.

"How did you get from the, ah, TARDIS to my office?"

He asks the question as carefully as possible, but there really is no delicate way around it, and the Doctor's step falters.

"I walked." he says steadily. It's a very intentional non-answer and Jack thinks that he's had enough of those for a while at least.

"You didn't seem like you were in good enough shape to be walking that far." he presses.

"Well I didn't bloody waltz over there, Captain!" the Doctor snaps and Jack is taken aback. The Doctor twitches and screws his eyes shut, leaning heavily on the console. "No, I'm sorry, Jack."

Jack takes a careful step forwards.

"You okay?"

The Doctor glances to Jack and pushes off the console.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." he replies, an edge of impatience in his voice. Jack doesn't believe it for a moment and is about to say so when the Doctor continues.

"I just-" he gestures to the TARDIS hallways. "Give me a few minutes, I'll be back."

He's gone before Jack can stop him.

The Immortal gives a sigh and circles the console, finding the captain's chair and sinking into it.

He doesn't believe the Doctor's facade of words casual nonchalance, isn't falling for his assurances of being fine, doesn't even believe the Time Lord's claim of having slept the night before. Honestly, he's finding it harder and harder to believe a single word coming from his friend. He thinks the Doctor knows that.

He runs a hand through his hair and lets it fall to the arm rest. It's only a few seconds before Jack notices something crusted underneath his fingers. Jack lifts his hand and glances to the arm rest.

The substance isn't exactly difficult to identify, but it still takes him a minute to process.

Dried blood is covering most of the arm rest.

"Shit," Jack mutters. He stands up and turns to face the chair. By and far, most of the fabric is stained with rust colored blood. It takes Jack only a moment to decipher the scene before him.

He can see the Doctor, suit torn, hair caked with blood, body ruined, stumbling around the console, can see him making haphazard calculations with a shattered mind, can see him, utterly taxed, collapsing into the chair, far past giving a damn about the irremovable stains that would surely follow his actions. And all of a sudden the Time Lord's claim of having simply walked to the Hub seems a lot less unbelievable and a lot more valid.

Shaking his head, Jack circles around the TARDIS console slowly. He doesn't dare touch anything, lest he twitch something the wring way and send the ship into a temporal collapse. Rather he paces and thinks.

Primarily about exactly how worried he should be about the Doctor's health, physical and otherwise, and also the matter of how he should confront the other man about the scars on his body, the sleep he hasn't been getting, the food he's barely been eating, and the quite frankly worrying glint he sometimes gets in his eye.

This is made considerably more difficult by the Time Lord's lack of inclination to talk about anything important with anyone, his tendency to flee the conversation with a quickly found tangent and a grin, bright and brittle. Jack sighs. He remembers back to the last time the Doctor had shown up to Torchwood, weary and sleep deprived. How Jack had actually managed to get him into a bed and sleeping with only a solid grasp on his shoulders and a firm command. He thinks that perhaps that tactic could pull through again, get the Doctor to talk-

Jack laughs.

Last time, the Doctor had been shaky and unwell, but he'd not been...shattered.

The word sounds pathetic, like it's reduced the Time Lord to something small and fragile, but it's all he can think of. Last time, Jack had not found the other man dissolving into a mess of tears and forgotten languages, hiding in the archives. Last time, there had not been a nearly animal fear present when Jack had reached out to touch him.

Last time, the Doctor had done a much worse job pretending to be okay, and this scares Jack to no end.

For the next thirteen minutes, the Immortal chases these thoughts in circles, cycling through and through again, no solutions forthcoming.

After fourteen minutes, the Doctor finally emerges from the hallways, clad in a fresh brown suit and his jacket, cream converse on his feet, wearing entirely unnecessary glasses, hair spiked up. He looks much better than he had just a while ago, put together, almost himself.

The Doctor walks to the console, standing next to Jack.

For a moment, both are quiet.

"Took you a while." Jack points out. The Doctor shrugs.

"There were, y'know, buttons." he motions vaguely to the suit. Jack gives a grunt.

"...Noticed your chair." the Captain notes. The Doctor's breath hitches.

"Jack-"

"You can't avoid this forever, Doc." warns Jack, and his voice is steel.

"I don't have to stay here." the Doctor counters. "You can't keep me here. I could leave right now."

"But you won't."

"How the hell do you know what I'm going to do?!" the Doctor demands. He's facing Jack now, and the space between the men feels like miles.

"Because I know you!" Jack exclaims.

"You don't know me!" the Doctor spits, adapting a more defensive stance. Jack doesn't fail to notice it, but knows that, even like this, the Doctor won't take any physical action and keeps his own position the same.

"Oh?' he questions, skeptical. "I don't know you?"

"You've no idea the things I've done!"

"And you think I'm innocent?!"

"Comparatively, yes!

There's a silence that ensues, heavy and taut.

"...I- I'm trying...to help you, Doc." Jack says after a moment.

"I don't want your help." the Doctor snarls. He shoves past Jack, stalking over to the TARDIS doors and throwing them open. He looks first outside, then to Jack. "You. Out. Now."

Jack sputters indigently.

"You think I'm just going to leave you like this?" he challenges, disbelieving.

"Why not? It's what you do to everyone else." the Doctor smirks and though there's something not quite right with it, Jack isn't looking for that now.

Jack flinches as though struck at the Doctor's words as he continues.

"How many agents, friends, have you lost over the years? Dozens? More? Hundreds? Then you abandon your team to come with me, not a second thought about what might happen to them. Is that how you cope now? You just abandon people? Friends? Family? Why not me, too?"

Jack swallows. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Strides across the console room, every step carefully controlled.

He steps just outside of the TARDIS and fixes his gaze on the Doctor.

"Fuck you."

The door slams shut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of swearing in this one and implications of/a discussion concerning suicide so take care of urself

The Doctor blinks. Stares at the TARDIS doors. He should probably be feeling something about now, shouldn't he? Instead he's just sort of...numb. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely recognizes that what he's just done wasn't amoung the best decisions he's ever made, especially considering that he hadn't actually meant a thing he'd said. A tactic, that's all it had been. A way to poke at Jack's weak points, manipulate him into leaving.

Somewhere else, he tells himself that none of it matters.

With a slight start, he turns from the ship's doors, instead facing the console. He gives a small sniff as he circles the controls, entering commands and flipping switches. He stumbles, catches himself on the console.

He's fine.

Really, he is.

He just needs to focus a minute more, to adjust this dial- no, that one, and he really shouldn't be having this much difficulty with something as simple as returning to the Time Vortex. Of course, perhaps his calculations were off, but this was only fifth dimensional calculus, no reason for him to have trouble with it, but he can't think straight, can't seem to think at all and all he knows is that his world is falling apart, piece by piece and there's nothing he can do to stop it, there's nothing he can ever do to stop it for even a second, and there isn't enough air, he can't breathe, but he needs to breathe because his past is chasing him always, and it never slows down, even when he does, and it's all he can do to keep running and he just wants this all to end-

Like a puppet with all of its strings cut, the Doctor sinks to the floor.

~oOo~

"Jack?"

It's Ianto, calling to Jack as the Captain stalks back into the Hub.

"What?" Jack does his best to sound normal, but even he can hear the edge of bitterness in his voice. Ianto arches a curious eyebrow and makes his way over to Jack.

"Where's the Doctor?" the younger man questions.

"In the TARDIS."

Pause.

"Is he...y'know, okay?"

"He's fine." Jack answers. "Just needed some time."

Even as he says it, Jack can't quite shake the guilt that accompanies his words. It's not that he feels guilty about the Doctor, exactly, the guilt comes more from lying to Ianto, who deserves so much better than that.

Because Jack is pretty damn sure that the Doctor didn't just 'need some time'. Jack is, in fact, almost positive that the Time Lord is in another star system by now, no chances of finding the TARDIS, or of him coming back to Torchwood.

Jack thinks that perhaps he should be considerably more concerned about this than he actually is.

"You're sure about that?"

Ianto's voice cuts through Jack's thoughts, crisp and professional, though there's a hint of concern there as well, and suddenly, lying to Ianto seems lot less okay.

It does not, however, become not okay enough for Jack to tell Ianto what happened.

"Pretty sure, yeah."

Ianto hesitates, then nods.

"Check on him tonight?"

"Course." Jack replies after a moment with an easy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He's finding that they rarely do, anymore.

~oOo~

ten hours later

Ianto walks, suit still buttoned, tie still straight, in the absolute down pour of rain. Jack walks ever so slightly behind him as they make their way across the Plass, to where the Captain has said the TARDIS is.

He had sounded slightly dubious about this, but sure enough, it was there, conspicuous as ever.

Ianto steps in front of the blue box and rapped his knuckles on the door.

"Doctor?" he calls. Nothing. Unshaken, Ianto reaches into the breastpocket of his suit and withdraws Jack's key to the TARDIS. He jams it into the lock, twists, and pushes the door open as he enters the ship.

And then he stops dead in his tracks.

It's not because the police box is considerably larger on the inside than it is on the outside. He's been told about that bit and, to be honest, it's hardly the most ridiculous thing he's ever been told.

Rather, he stops because the Doctor is collapsed on the floor of the TARDIS.

There's an impossibly long second before-

"Fuck!"

Ianto races to the Doctor's side, is bout to mutter obscenities in every language he knows and is about three seconds from performing necessary medical procedures when he notices the Time Lord's steady breathing. It's long and deep and rhythmic and-

"Is he sleeping?" Ianto asks, looking to Jack, who's standing beside the console. Jack looks to the Doctor. Studies him for a moment. Nods.

"Looks like it." he replies.

"He just...fell asleep right here?"

Jack considers a moment.

"He lied to me."

"I'm sorry?"

Jack glances at Ianto.

"He told me he's been sleeping. Last night, and the night before that." pause. "That self-destructing bastard." Jack spits out. "Move." he commands Ianto.

Jack kneels next to the Doctor, and as he does so, decodes just what had happened in the moments after he had stormed out.

He can see the other man, not thinking straight, not sure if what he'd done to Jack was even close to the right thing, halfway stumbling around the TARDIS console. He sees the mess of a man that is the Doctor, utterly exhausted and just barely keeping his facade of being alright in tact, if only to try and convince himself of it, envisions the Time Lord as he forces himself to stay upright and functioning, and he can see his body giving in, unable to keep up with the demands being placed on it, instead collapsing to the floor as the Doctor sinks into unconsciousness.

Jack glaces the Doctor over a while and runs a deft hand over his torso, ensuring that none of his various wounds had reopened. A moment later he looks to Ianto.

"He's fine." the Captain declares. Ianto arches a skeptical eyebrow.

"You're sure about that, are you?" the Welshman questions.

"Well, he's not dead and he's not bleeding out. That's good enough for the both of us, I should think."

Jack thinks that perhaps his definition of the Doctor's well-being should be somewhat less all including. He pushes the thought aside.

"Should we wake him up?" inquires Ianto. Jack sighs, buries his face in his hands. He's not exactly looking forwards to the Doctor's reaction to seeing him after he was more or less kicked out.

"Probably, yeah." he answers.

Pause.

"D'you want me to-" Ianto begins to offer. He's cut off by a wave of Jack's hand.

"I'll do it." the Immortal says. He grasps the Doctor's shoulder and shakes him, to no apparent avail.

"Goddamnit, Doc..." he mutters, trying once more. Jack gives one final shake, and feels the Time Lord's entire body tense in his hands. Jack blinks, watches as the Doctor squirms and releases his grip on the other man, backing away from him slightly.

"Doc?" he asks, cautious.

"No...nonononono..."

For a moment, the Doctor's words don't make sense.

And then he screams.

"STOP!"

The word rips itself from his thoat, hoarse and terrified. Jack jumps at the sudden noise, though not as badly as Ianto.

Jack thinks that he knows what's happening, but doesn't have time to contemplate whether he's right about it or not, not while the Doctor is still apparently falling apart.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Doctor." Jack says, hoping his voice will cut through the Doctor's mantra. It doesn't. Instead, the Doctor's words, already rushed and difficult to understand, become even less clear.

"Sv'cair tycil, akigatou tenbois kydie-"

"Doctor!" the word is a shout this time around. The Doctor flinches as though struck and then stays eerily still.

"Shit..." Jack mutters, kneeling next to his friend. His hand cusps the Doctors, holding it loosely.

" , Doc, I need you to wake up..." he trails off. "Please, Doc-"

The Doctor's eyes snap open.

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, his facade is utterly shot to hell, every ounce of emotion scrawled across his features, and his eyes are so alien-

"Jack."

The Doctor's voice cuts through Jack's attention. It's surprisingly steady. Jack almost wishes it wasn't, wishes the Doctor would just let his goddamn mask fall away when what lies just beneath it has already been so exposed.

"Hey there, Doc," Jack says, soft and gentle. Despite himself, a small smile pulls as his lips, relieved that nothing too drastic had happened. "You okay?"

The Doctor blinks, hesitates.

"Yeah, course I'm alright." he answers, sitting himself up. He fixes Jack with a peculiar look, and the Captain could swear that he sees a sliver of fear in the Doctor's eyes.

"What time is it?" the Doctor asks before Jack can say anything else.

"Seven-twelve." Ianto supplies from near the guardrail. The Doctor stands up quickly, and for a moment, Jack is ready to catch him if he falls. He doesn't, and his gaze flashes to Ianto.

"Are you sure?"

Ianto looks taken aback by the strain in the Doctor's voice and glances to his watch again.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"PM?"

Ianto nods silently. The Doctor thinks about this, and then takes several steps away from Jack.

"Listen, Jack, I can explain-"

"I'd love an explanation, Doc. I'd love to know why you've been passed out on the floor for the last eight hours, I'd love to know why you yelled when I tried to wake you up-"

"I did what?" the Doctor demands, voice razor sharp.

"You- you yelled,"

"Screamed, more like." Ianto interjects. Jack shoots Ianto a glare, but doesn't dispute the words. The Doctor swallows.

"Oh," he says softly.

"Yeah." Jack replies in an equal tone. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing, I'm fine-"

"You screamed at me to stop when I was shaking you, Doc. Goddamnit, tell me what's wrong!"

The Doctor opens his mouth to reply, closes it again.

"Jack, please," he stammers out. "I-"

Jack looks the Doctor up and down, takes in his disheveled state. He reaches out a hand to the other man and the Doctor twitches away.

And that hurts.

"...What happened to you?" Jack asks, voice barely a whisper.

"You know what happened to me, Jack. Owen told you-"

"I don't give a shit what Owen told me." Jack interrupts. "I need to hear it from you."

The Doctor looks to Jack. He sighs and collapses into the couch, running both hands though his hair.

"You said you landed on the wrong planet." Jack mentions.

"Did I?"

He sounds genuinely confused.

"Yeah." Jack nods. "When you first showed up."

"Oh."

"Was that just bullshit?" Jack asks. The Doctor rubs at the back of his neck, looking at Ianto.

"Ianto, could you..." he trails off.

"Could you step outside?" Jack finishes. Ianto give a curt nod.

"Course." he answers, stepping out.

With Ianto put of the TARDIS, Jack turns to face the Doctor.

"So you lied to me." he says bluntly. The Doctor shrugs.

"I s'pose."

"Why?"

"I was just...trying not to worry you."

Jack thinks about that for a moment, and, God, if that was not the most Doctorish thing the other man could have possibly done; hiding real trauma, fresh and deep behind smoke and mirror lies to protect Jack, when really it should be the other way around.

"So what really happened?" the Captain questions. The Doctor leaned back into the couch, almost disappearing into the cushions.

"After Davros, when I dropped off you and Rose and the other me and everyone else, I-" his flow of words stop abruptly, and starts again in the same manner. "Jack, do you know why there's never been a successful two-way metacrisis before?"

Jack shakes his head.

"Because there can't be. All the knowledge that was in Donna's head, it's too much for any human, she...she would have burned, Jack." the Doctor's voice had been at least somewhat steady, had some of his usual light flippancy, until now. "I wiped her memory."

The Doctor's voice is flat and Jack's breath hitches.

"I took her home. She doesn't remember any of it, but she's fine."

Beat.

"And then?" Jack asks. The Doctor takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

"I tried travelling on my own. And that was fine. For a while. But I, ah, landed on planet. Not the wrong planet, exactly, 'cause I'd had the TARDIS set on random. But the area I landed in, it was isolated. I talked to the people there, and there were only three of them and we weren't at all far away from the TARDIS but...they knew who I was. And they knew what the TARDIS was."

"Oh." said Jack, voice soft.

"They wanted that sort of technology. Asked me how to get into the TARDIS, how to pilot her." the Doctor flashes a smile, heartless and hollow. "I didn'r cooperate."

"Of course not..." Jack mutters, just loudly enough for the Doctor to hear. He motions vaguely to the bandage on the Doctor's chest that covered old scars and fresh wounds. "So they did that to you."

The Doctor sniffs slightly.

"Among other things."

Jack catches onto the implications of the Doctor's words in a heartbeat.

"What else?"

"...It was the thirty-sixth century, Jack. They had techniques more advanced than...physical punishment."

Jack tenses at the Doctor's last words. Because, of course he should have seen this.

By the thirty-sixth century, all sort of black market torture devices had been invented. Things that got inside your head and made you relive your worst memories, things that rummaged through the soul, searching for something that had truly broken the victim, reminding them of every horrible detail, things that Jack himself had used, things that Jack didn't even want to imagine.

And, shit, if those had been used on the Doctor, if those bastards had broken his mental walls and fucked with his head-

"Fuck." Jack hisses through his teeth. The Doctor watches the TARDIS floor, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Jack," he starts uncertainly. Jack fixes his gaze on the Doctor and something about his expression makes the Time Lord go quiet.

"Don't give me any of your 'I'm alright' shit, Doc." Jack warns, though there's no real threat in his words. "What did they do to you?"

The Doctor looks stricken. Sounds it, too, when he speaks.

"You know what they did, Jack. They-" he breaks off, looking at Jack helplessly.

"They turned your mind against you." Jack finishes.

"Please, Jack." the Doctor murmurs.

Jack nods. The Doctor's affirmation had been all he'd needed to hear, really.

"Alright," he says, putting his hands up in surrender. "Alright."

There's a significant pause, in which the Doctor very carefully studies the floor and Jack very carefully studies the Doctor.

"You do know that was all bullshit, right, Doc?" Jack says suddenly. The Time Lord twitches at Jack's voice. He looks up at the Immortal and says nothing.

"Doctor," Jack starts. "The things they made you think and remember...they were all lies and tricks."

"There was truth behind them." the Doctor counters quietly. "There always is."

"Not enough truth to make any of it matter." Jack argues. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders why it is that the Doctor can't see that he doesn't deserve the hate that the universe directs at him, much less the hate he directs at himself.

"Jack," the Doctor starts, and from just that, Jack can tell the Doctor's next words are going to be an out pour of self-loathing, twisted and turned to try to convince Jack of his own guilt.

"No." Jack cuts off, and the sternness in his voice surprises even him. "No." he says again, softer this time around. The Doctor doesn't argue, doesn't say a word, doesn't give any sort of reaction as Jack leans against the TARDIS console, his gaze trained on the other man the whole time.

"Now, you're going to keep your ass sat down and you're going to listen to what I've got to say. Are we understood?"

After a quick moment, the Doctor nods.

"Actually listen. Not just ignoring what I say and nodding." Jack adds.

"Yes, fine." the Doctor replies, impatient.

For a second, Jack doesn't know what to say and an awkward silence hangs in the air, heavy, like humidity. Another second passes and at least a few words find him.

"You don't deserve the shit that happens to you. You don't. And I know that the universe has fucked you over so many times that you think you do, but even after all that, you're still you. You still...you still know who you are, and you still know right from wrong and you still act on it, even though you have the right to tell the universe to go fuck itself a thousand times over and...if you were someone who deserved half of what gets thrown your way, you would have lost yourself a long time ago. You wouldn't still take people with you, you wouldn't help them or care, and, if I had even one reason to believe you deserved anything that's happened to you, then God knows that I wouldn't be standing here saying this."

Jack's monologue ceases as he watches the Doctor process what he's said.

"Alright."

Jack arches an eyebrow.

"That's all? 'Alright'?"

While it's not an argument, it's not exactly what Jack had been expecting, either.

"What do you want me to say?" the Doctor challenges, glancing up to Jack.

"I don't know." Jack admits. "Not that."

"Well then I don't know what to tell you." the Doctor says, sounding beyond tired as he stands up. He sways dangerously for a moment but regains himself quickly, starting across the console room.

"Where are you going?" calls Jack, too confused to do much else at the moment.

"Archives."

Bloody typical.

The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS and closes the door.

Jack isn't entirely sure what to think. On one hand, the Doctor hadn't completely rejected what he'd had to say, but on the other, he also hadn't accepted it. Even if the Time Lord's response hadn't been what Jack had wanted to hear, perhaps he was at least considering it-

"Sir?"

It was Ianto, peering into the ship. Jack glanced to the Welshman and ran a hand through his hair, saying nothing.

"Only the Doctor left and...?" Ianto trails off uncertainly. Jack gives a short nod.

"He's going to the archives." Jack supplies. He pushed off the console, walked across the room and outside the ship, closing the door behind him and locking it.

For the second time today, Ianto seems to sense that there's something off with Jack as they walk across the Plass. It's not that he's tense, exactly, but there's something about his posture, the way he carries himself, that silences any curiosity Ianto may have about what happened between Jack and the Doctor.

Even if he doesn't say it, Ianto thinks that Jack is probably grateful for his silence anyways.

The quiet continues as the pair walk back into to Hub and as they go their separate ways.

Ianto thinks that he's vaguely grateful that Jack hadn't brought up what had happened, even if he was burning with a morbid curiosity.

He isn't sure that he really wants to know, after all.

~oOo~

Three hours later, it's only Jack, Ianto, and the Doctor who remain in the Hub. At least, they assume the Doctor is still there. No one's seen him in hours.

Ianto files a last report into a manila folder and leans back in his chair, stretching. He stands up and makes his way up the staircase to Jack's office, opening the door and peering in. Jack's sitting at his desk, doing paperwork. At least, Ianto thinks that's probably what he'd been doing at some point. Now though, he was somehow looking at a pile of paper while managing to not really be looking at it at all.

"Jack."

The Captain's attention snaps to Ianto.

"What is it?" he asks. Ianto motions vaguely out of Jack's office.

"I'm headed off."

Jack blinks.

"It's past ten..." Ianto adds uncertainly. Jack gives a violent strt and answers.

"Right, of course." he replies, fumbling over his words some. Ianto frowns. "Go ahead, I'm staying here tonight."

"You alright?" Ianto inquires, taking a small step into the office.

"I'm fine," says Jack, waving a dismissive hand. "Just tired."

"If you say so..." Ianto trails off. Jack flashes a smile.

"Go home, Ianto. Catch some rest." he says, voice gentle. Ianto hesitates a fraction of a second.

"...Alright." he agrees after a moment, stepping back out of the room. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"I'm sure you will!" says Jack as Ianto descends the steps once more.

He hears the rolling door open and close a short time later and stands. He should probably wander down to the archives, make sure that the Doctor hasn't managed to get himself killed one way or another. Besides, he and the Time Lord will be the only ones in the Hub until the next morning. Jack's not one to pass up company if he can find it.

Two minutes later and Jack's office has been somewhat tidied and he's walking though the underground maze that is the archives.

"Doc?" he calls, voice echoing through the entirety of the archives. There's no reply for a solid ten seconds, and Jack is starting to think that the Doctor has actually managed to get himself injured when-

"What?"

The voice is somewhat irritated but definitely the Doctor's. Jack follows it, turning several corners and sure enough he's there, sifting through a cardboard box of unidentified artifacts.

"How much of that are you pocketing?" questions Jack. The Doctor gives an indifferent shrug. There's a pause.

"Is this what you've been doing the whole time?" Jack asks.

"More or less."

The Doctor sighs and leans back on his heels, running a hand through his hair.

"What do you want, Jack?" he questions wearily. Jack blinks, slightly taken aback by the bluntness of the question.

"Just...checking in." he replies. "Ianto's gone so we're the only ones here for a while more..." he trails off, waiting for the Doctor to reply.

He doesn't.

"...Found anything interesting?" Jack asks. The Doctor glances to Jack, scrutinizing the other man.

"...Why are you so worried about me?"

"I'm not-" Jack starts.

"Yes, you are," the Doctor interrupts. "Everything about you says so; you're all tense and your voice is half a step higher than it normally is and-"

"Why do you think I'm worried?" Jack snaps. "It takes you days to talk to me about anything properly, you pass out for hours, you probably didn't listen to a damn word I said earlier, and then you disappear for the entire night!"

"...You make it seem as though I'm a very stressful person to keep track off." the Doctor says slowly.

"You are."

The Doctor clenches his jaw slightly.

"I'm not a child, Jack. You don't need to keep track of me."

"Don't I?"

"I've managed to survive for nine hundred years on my own, actually." the Doctor retorts, voice icy.

"You're a fucking mess." Jack hisses. "Excuse me if I don't exactly trust you on your own."

The Doctor gives a skeptical snort.

"What d'you think I'm going to do if you leave me alone?" he challenges, and Jack thinks that he's teetering even more so than usual on the knife edge of passion and madness, and he's scared of which side the Time Lord will eventually fall too, is scared that perhaps it's already happened and he's just missed it.

"I don't know-"

"You think I'm going to off myself?"

"You send up a lot of red flags!"

A bark of laughter escapes the Doctor and a terse silence ensues.

"...Unbelievable." he mutters.

"Is it, though?" Jack asks, softer this time around.

"Yes!'

"You don't think that you give me any reason to worry you? You think that when you're trying to convince me to hate you that I don't notice it? You think that when you damn near throw your life away that it doesn't scare the shit out of me?"

"I don't try to 'throw my life away'." the Doctor argues, sullen.

Jack twitches.

"No, I'm sorry, what is it called when you yell at a Dalek to kill you, then?" he asks, expression one of stone.

The color blanches from the Doctor's face and his entire body goes stiff.

"I didn't-"

"Martha told me what happened in Manhattan, Doc."

"That's not the point-"

"It's exactly the point!" Jack snaps harshly.

"It's-"

"How many times have you done that? How long do you think it'll be until someone listens? How long until you take it into your own hands?!"

The Doctor won't quite meet Jack's gaze, and the Captain notes that at some point his hands had begun trembling ever so slightly as he takes shallow breaths.

"I- I can't- I'm sorry-" he says in a breathless kind of voice and all of a sudden he's doubled over on himself and Jack's arms are around him, holding him as his thin frame is wracked with sobs.

"I'm sorry- please-"

Jack doesn't say anything, only holds the Doctor tighter. He's shaking like a leaf and, for a moment, Jack thinks that perhaps this is the first time that the Doctor has ever truly broken in front of someone.

And though he doesn't say anything about it, not right at least, it occurs to Jack that the Doctor had more or less just answered the question concerning his not so subtle deathwish.

He's not quite ready to think about that.

Jack's arms are secure around the Doctor as he continues to take heaving breaths. Warm tears are starting to soak through Jack's coat as he continues to murmur into the Doctor's ear words of love and eternity.

Slowly, so slowly, the sobs reduce themselves to shuddering breaths, but the Doctor doesn't break free from Jack's embrace as the Captain had expected. He stays like that for a good while longer while his breathing returns to normal. Finally, he draws away from Jack. He's still trembling and his eyes are rimmed red, but there are no longer tears streaming down his face.

He doesn't even apologize, and Jack can't tell if he should be alarmed or relieved by that.

"You okay?" he questions cautiously.

"I-...no." is the Doctor's hesitant response. "I just...I can't do it anymore, Jack."

He looks to Jack, hopeless and hurting and so, so lost.

"...What do you mean?" Jack asks, voice quiet. It's a question he's not at all sure he wants to hear the answer to.

"I can't keep this up. I can't keep running and hiding, because I'm never good enough and the past always catches up with me..." he trails off, looking at his hands but not really seeing them. "No matter what I do or who I save it's never enough and I can never forgive myself and-" his voice cracks, faltering. "I'm done."

Jack's blood runs cold. The Doctor may not have specified what it was he was done with, but it didn't take a huge stretch of the imagination to figure it out, either.

There's an impossibly loud silence as Jack stares at the Doctor while the other man seems to recognize the weight of what he's said. It seems as though the Doctor has just realized what he's said to Jack, too, and is for the first time seeing his options.

"You can't-" Jack begins.

"I should leave." the Doctor interrupts, voice oddly detached as he stands.

"Sit the fuck down." says Jack, and there's a command somewhere in his voice alongside the nearly tangible panic as well.

The Doctor freezes, carefully controlled gaze falling on the Captain. He doesn't move, doesn't twitch.

"You can't say something like that and then just leave."

"I can-"

"No, you can't." Jack cuts off. "Because I know what you're going to do if you leave and if you do, if you end up dead and I don't see you again because I didn't stop you, I will never forgive myself."

"It's not as though you'll know." the Doctor replies with meticulously weighed words. Jack fixes the Doctor with a vaguely unbelieving stare.

He should have seen this years ago. He really should have. When the Doctor would walk right into Torchwood or when he was sitting on a bench that Jack just so happened to pass by, he should have seen that it was just the Doctor's own ambiguous way of screaming for help.

Now, watching the Doctor break so openly in front of him, Jack can't believe that he'd allowed himself to be reassured by the Time Lord's flimsy smiles and even thinner promises for so long, can't believe that he'd only touched on the surface issues of sleep and food, can't believe that he'd chosen to ignore the tortured look he'd sometimes glimpsed in his friend's eyes.

Still, he doesn't want to believe what the Doctor is saying now, either.

"...You're not serious." he says. "You can't be serious."

The Doctor very carefully does not look at Jack.

"Please don't be serious."

The Doctor's face disappears behind his hands as he curls in on himself.

"...Doctor..." Jack says, helpless.

"...I don't know what to do." the Doctor's voice is barely more than a whisper, but Jack has no problem hearing it.

"Not this," and Jack is pleading now, pleading with the Doctor for his own life. "Anything but this."

"...Then what?" questions the Doctor, both hands in his hair, sticking it up, making his seem more desperate than he already is.

"I don't know." Jack admits. "But not this."

"I can't keep doing this though. I really can't."

"Yes, you can." presses Jack. "You've done it since the Time War, you've done it since Canary Wharf, you've done it since Martha and the Master, and you've done it since Donna."

"They kept me going, Jack. They...they helped. Gave me something to keep going through the motions for, and they're not around anymore and I don't...no one's around and it's like after the Time War again, 'cause there's a silence in my head, but it's all the tie now and it's not just in my head and-" he stops, taking a deep breath. "I don't have anyone to keep doing this for, anymore."

Jack is quiet for a moment.

"You have me." he mentions.

"You have others." the Doctor dismisses with a vague wave of his hand. "Ianto, Gwen, Tosh, Owen. You don't need me."

"If you think that you're going to talk me into being okay with you offing yourself, then you've got another thing coming, Doc."

The Doctor flinches at the way Jack phrases it and looks to him.

"It won't matter to you."

"Bullshit it won't matter."

"...When I leave-"

"Don't you fucking dare, Doc," Jack cuts across, voice shaking now. "Don't you dare do that to me, to Martha. Don't you fucking dare be that selfish."

"There's a difference between this and being selfish." the Doctor retorts.

"There's really not."

"Of course there is." the Doctor snaps.

"Stop." says Jack. "Just stop."

The Doctor stops. Jack watches him for a moment, very carefully.

"...What will it take for you to listen to me?"

The Doctor gives no reaction and Jack exhales slowly, breath controlled.

"...I love you, Doc."

The Doctor snorts slightly and despite himself, Jack clenches his jaw.

"Not like- you're my friend, and if you can't be bothered to take care of yourself, then you can be damn sure that I'll do it for you."

The Doctor blinks. Nods.

"I need to TARDIS key." Jack says. "Please, Doctor."

The Doctor pulls his necklace off and hands it over to Jack, who drapes it over his own head.

"Okay," he says, relieved that the Doctor is complying, at least to a point. The Doctor's expression remains blank, and Jack doesn't think it's intentional.

"'m exhausted." the Time Lord mutters.

"There's probably a reason for that." Jack notes. "You should sleep."

"Just slept earlier."

"That doesn't even come close to the amount that you need to make up and you know it."

Uncertainty is scrawled across the Doctor's features.

"I won't let anything happen to you. I swear." Jack reassures.

The Doctor gives a small nod. Jack doesn't think that he's really being listened to.

"You could use the bed in my office."

Nod.

"Alright then."

The Doctor gives a start, taken aback by Jack's sharp words. He seems confused as to why the other man is leaving and now Jack knows that he really hadn't been listened to. He's not entirely surprised, or even irritated. God only knows what sort of chance Jack would have had of getting the Doctor to do this if he'd actually been listening to a word being said. As it is, the Time Lord stands up on semi-steady feet and Jack puts an arm over his shoulder. It's brushed off by the Doctor.

"Please, Jack..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Doc. You know I won't."

Despite the words, the Doctor still seems weary and Jack decides not to press the issue anymore.

"Alright."

His hands go back into his pockets.

The Time Lord somehow manages to bound up the stairs to the Hub's main level and keeps pace with Jack into his office. Two steps in, and he's collapsed on the bed.

"...You shouldn't do that." Jack says. The Doctor glances to him. He's breathing far more heavily than he should be, Jack notes. The Captain lets out a long suffering breath and motions to the Doctor's chest, raw flesh and sinew hidden behind bandages and shirts and suits.

"It's gotta hurt when you do that."

The Doctor shrugs. Jack sighs.

"Are you going to sleep or not?" he questions, unable to keep an edge of exasperation out of his voice. There's no answer for a moment.

"I'll leave if you want, lock the door and-"

"No, stay," the Doctor cuts off.

Jack blinks in surprise.

"Please."

"...Alright."

A moment passes as Jack settles into his desk.

"You don't mind if I do paperwork, do you, Doc?"

"No." comes the flat answer. Jack nods, already starting in on the piles of paper on his desk. Both of them go silent.

Twenty minutes later and half a Rift report later, the Doctor breaks the quiet.

"'m sorry, Jack. 'Bout everything."

Jack jumps at the Doctor's words, long convinced that he'd been asleep. Recovering, he shakes his head.

"You don't need to be. It's what I'm here for."

Silence.

"Doc?"

Jack glances from his paperwork to the Doctor.

Now, the bastard's fallen asleep. The Captain sighs, buries his face in his hands.

The stacks of Rift reports waits expectantly.


End file.
